And Then There Were Three
by Phoenix Moon 13
Summary: Spike's POV. Spike and Tara decide to band together with Anya to help each other over their break-ups. Surprised at the combination? Not as much as Spike is.
1. Unexpected Visitor

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter One: Unexpected Visitor  
**

Author's Note: Set post _Wrecked_ but _Hell's Bells_ does happen towards the beginning.

* * *

Don't ask me why I did it, I don't even know myself. I think maybe I was lonely – not that I'd ever admit it to _them_. And there was only a slim chance that she'd call me disgusting. I'd always quite liked her. Not straight away, didn't like any of 'em straight away, but she treated me all right. Not that she opened her mouth that much, but despite hanging with that lot she called friends, she was polite, which was a pleasant surprise.

So here I am, in a funk after yet another run in with the Slayer. Stalked off and was so bloody angry with her that I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I finally stop to look for my lighter, which isn't in my pocket where it always is; when I glance up and realise I'm quite near her place. Like I said; don't ask me _why_, but I shrug and saunter over to the tiny apartment block where I know she now lives. As I knock on her door, I ask myself what the bloody hell I'm doing, but, as I'm here, seems a shame to leave. When she answers the door, I wait for the look of annoyance and disgust that _always_ greets me, but she doesn't look like that. Figure I must be spending too much time with the Slayer. I get a small frown and a light smile.

"Spike," she says, obviously wondering what the hell I'm doing here.

"Tara," I answer pleasantly – no need to be rude, not when she was being polite. Didn't want to get her back up, not this girl who could terrify Anyanka with her shy, rabbit like ways.

"Is there something wrong?" she asks, but before I can answer, her eyes widen in horror. "Is it D-Dawn?" she stutters, grabbing her keys and her bag.

"No," I say. "Nothing's wrong."

"Oh," she puts her bag down and studies me for a second. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"No. Just a visit from your friendly neighbourhood vamp," I lower my eyes. Stupid really, to think she wouldn't be busy and she'd actually appreciate the company as much as I would. "But of course, you're busy. I'll go." "No," I feel her warm hand wrap gently around my wrist as I turn to leave.

"Please, I-I wasn't doing anything. I'd like the c-company."

"Ok," I try my best to look casual and cool, but I can't help grinning.

"Come in," she says and I step into her place, having never been the sort of chap to pass up kind hospitality. "How come you were a-able to get into the b-building? Not that you don't have a right or anything, or that I'm not glad that you - "

"Public place," I interrupt. "Only place I need an invite is the actual apartment. Don't worry, love, I didn't take it the wrong way."

"Oh," she nods. "Good."

I sit down and take in the tiny apartment. It isn't anything to write home about. A fold out bed in one corner and a tiny kitchen with another door to the side which, I assume, is her bathroom.

"H-how did you know where I live?" she asks tentatively.

"Heard Red mention it to the Slayer," I see that she looks uncomfortable. "Look, Glinda, if me being here isn't your idea of a fun filled evening, just say so, it's not like I've got feelings to hurt."

Ouch, that sounded bitter. But that's what happens, isn't it? When you get told so often that you're evil, that you have no soul so you can't love, that's what happens. You start to believe it and you get bitter.

"You've got feelings," she says without a trace of a stutter, says it almost indignantly. "I just wondered how you knew was all."

"Oh," I nod. There's a slightly awkward silence, what on earth do we have to say to each other? "So, what're you doing here? Thought you were moving back into the dorm?"

"There wasn't any room," she blushes. "And I couldn't stay at Buffy's with… Anyway, a friend told me that there was a place here. The rent is quite low and I don't need a lot."

"Not a bad place," I say, casting my eye around. Girl's really made it her own, her things here and there. But she's not settled in _too_ much, I notice. Maybe she's half hoping her and the witch'll get back together.

"No, it isn't," she agrees. "And I pay the rent by working at the E-Espresso Pump. That's how Willow found out." she blushes again, "Xander came in and saw me. We talked and I think he mentioned it to Willow."

"Nosy old git," I mutter.

She laughs and taps me lightly on the arm, but looks instantly embarrassed.

"I'm sure he meant well," she stands and wanders into the kitchen. "Would you like a d-drink?"

"O-Neg. if you've got it," she opens her mouth to say she hasn't but I just smile. "A hot chocolate'll be fine, pet."

She smiles then, warm and bright. We spend the rest of the evening talking about this film she saw about the Second World War. She wanted my opinion; she explained the story and wanted me to tell her how it _really_ was. Been a long time since people have been interested in my stories. I made her laugh a lot, and I was sure to leave the gory bits out. She walks me to the door when I say I have to go.

"Spike?" she says quietly.

"Yeah, love?"

"Would you come again tomorrow?" I'm shocked when she looks at me and I see an echo of myself. She's lonely too. "I – I don't see many people out of class and I l-liked your company."

I shrug, "If you want."

She smiles then, and I find it hard not to return it.


	2. Friends

_**And Then There Were Three  
**_**Chapter Two: Friends  
**

I'm quite surprised when Tara announces she got some blood for me. We're walking back from the Espresso Pump together. It's been just over a week since I first darkened her doorway and it's become routine for me to meet her after her evening shift, walk her home, have a drink or a snack with her, a little chat, then go home. I probably wouldn't've started meeting her from work if she hadn't mentioned that she'd been attacked. Luckily it was only a fledgling and she was able to freeze it with a spell before she staked it. She tried to pretend like it hadn't bothered her, but I'm not blind, I could see it had shaken her up a fair bit. Got my back up too, so that's why I do it. It keeps me busy, stops me thinking about the Slayer too much. Stops me going after her and making a complete tit of myself.

"Thanks, pet," I say when she tells me about the blood. "You didn't have to."

"I don't mind," she waves her hand as though it's trivial, but knowing she did that for me, makes me feel accepted, trusted. Like a friend. "You walk me home and make sure I don't get killed, and I give you a warm mug of blood and some marshmallows. It's a fair trade."

I smile; Red was off her soddin' rocker to even _think_ about doing anything that could end up in losing Tara.

"Dawn misses you," she says suddenly.

"What?" I ask, lighting a cigarette. 'Nother thing I like about Tara, she doesn't mind that I smoke. Doesn't give me chapter and verse on how second hand smoke is bad for her. All she ever does is hand me a saucer to stub it out in and I don't blow the smoke in her direction. Like she said: fair trade.

"Dawn," she says again. "She misses you," we enter her apartment block and walk up the stairs to her apartment. "She came to see me yesterday," she unlocks the door and tosses her keys to the side as she peels her coat off. "I think she had an argument with Buffy. I mentioned you walk me home and she asked if you talk about her at all. Do you want your blood now or later?"

"Now, please," I say, shocked by my own politeness. She smiles and goes into the kitchen. "Why'd Bit ask that?"

"Because she _misses_ you," Tara says, using a tone of voice and an expression you wouldn't have thought sweet little Tara capable of.

"Why don't you show that side to the Scoobies?" I ask, cocking my head to the side to study her.

"What?" she looks confused by the sudden change of subject.

"That side of you. All they ever saw was quiet and shy Tara. That's all I ever saw 'til I got to know you a bit more, now I can't get you to shut up for love nor money!"

"Sorry," she says quietly.

"That was a joke, Tara, pet," I say, hoping I haven't hurt her. "I like to hear you talk. Comes as a surprise to have someone having a conversation with me that _isn't_ punctuated by 'you're disgusting,' or 'you don't have a soul!' Like Peaches wonderful bleedin' soul stuck around for long _anyway_."

"Dawn prefers you to Angel," she says gently. She knows I was talking about Buffy. We don't talk about it, but from little comments I've made, she's figured it out and from stuff she's said, I know why she left Red. If she wants to talk about it, she will, 'til then we're happy as we are.

"She does?" I ask and I wonder if she's only saying this to make me feel better.

"Yes."

"What else did she say?"

Tara hands me my mug and a bag of marshmallows. She smiles wickedly at me. I'm constantly amazed by the way she acts. She's really funny and clever once you get to know her.

"I don't think I should tell you," she sips her hot chocolate as I sprinkle marshmallows into my mug. "You'll only get big-headed."

"Me?" I ask. "Mr. Modest?"

She laughs and takes the marshmallows, tipping some into her mug.

"She was talking about how she thinks Buffy's unfair. Dawn doesn't get why Buffy won't just be with you. In fact, she listed all the reasons you should be together."

"And they would be?"

Tara twists her lips as she thinks.

"You're not broody, you're a lot of fun, you have cool hair," she pauses for a second. "You have a great accent, you talk more, you _smile_ more. And, um… you're, er…" she looks embarrassed and I'm curious as to why. I don't pry, I let her take her time. "You're sexy," she says with a blush. "And you're not gonna turn evil like Angel did when you do what she termed the 'horizontal tango'" she blushes again. "And she said that you wouldn't do a Riley and run away because you'd always stick by her."

"Didn't know the Niblet cared," I say nonchalantly but inside I feel happy that at least one Summers' gives a damn.

"Yes, you do," Tara says sternly. "You know she loves you. You're like this really cool person who takes an interest in _her_. You should go see her."

"I wish I could," I sigh. "But Buffy… You know the situation."

"No, I don't," Tara says. "You've never said. I'm guessing something went on between you two?"

I feel a little defensive and I pick a blood soaked marshmallow from my mug and pop it into my mouth.

"You've never told me about Red," I say, edging a little around the subject.

"I'll tell you about Willow if you tell me about Buffy," she offers.

"I'll show you mine and you'll show me yours?" I ask with a sly grin.

"Yeah," she shrugs and I'm surprised she didn't blush. I guess she's getting used to me. "Go on then," she urges.

So I do. I tell her. I tell her about the sex, the insults, the beatings. I give it to her in glorious Technicolor. I was going to leave out all the little things I did, but no, Tara knows me well. So I tell her the things I said to Buffy, the ways I've tried to get her to admit that she cares. I stop when I see tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I ask, worried that she's crying in anger. Angry at me for being so bad to Buffy.

"You love her so much," she says quietly. "But you can't be with her. I… I know how that feels."

And I know she does. Because I was there, saw her after that Hellbitch sucked her brain. And I was there when Willow wiped our memories. I'd be lying if I said I didn't mind that I thought my name was Randy Giles or that I was the Watcher's bleedin' son. Never understood Willow's fascination with magic. Tara, she's into the whole natural aspect of it. That's not to say she doesn't _do_ the magic, but unlike Willow, for her it's not all about the zappy lights and poofs of smoke. Tara's mother taught her Wicca, she told me a few stories about her mother, she sounded a little like Joyce, kind and gentle. Tara takes after her mother.

I touch her hand gently as she starts to cry. I feel a little awkward; I don't know what to soddin' do! Then, between sobs, she tells me why she had to leave Willow. Tells me that she couldn't be with someone who couldn't take her as she was, couldn't love her without wanting to change her. And I get why it's like Buffy and me; Buffy won't let me love her, but I can't change for her, can't be whatever she thinks she wants or needs, and Tara can't either. I slip my arm around her and she leans into my chest. And I can't help thinking that it's nice to be needed.

* * *

"Spike."

Just when I thought that people could say my name _without_ acting like it's the most disgusting word in the bloody universe, I had to go to 1630 Revello Drive, didn't I? But, of course, I _am_ the most disgusting thing in the world, sorry if I forgot that.

"Slayer," I answer, my voice snarky, and it hit me that I've never used that tone with Tara.

"What do you want?" this time her voice is tired, run down.

"What's up?" There I go again. I was there to see L'il Bit and here I was wondering after the latest catastrophe to behalf the great, heroic Slayer. God, I'm a pathetic wanker. Not that that's news or anything.

"Stuff," she says. "What are you here for?"

"I came to see Dawn," I say honestly. I saw. Don't think I don't notice, 'cause I do. It's disappointment and, trust me, I have a hard time keeping myself from whacking her around her thick head. I have other people in my life _besides_ her. Dawn for one. Tara for another.

"Oh," she says and pushed the door back to allow me access.

"If you want any help with patrol…?" I offer.

She looks at me again, sort of suspicious, like she doesn't get why the Evil Dead's being all giving and generous. If she asks, I'd tell her straight; Tara told me to be kind. Told me I had to be patient with the Slayer, her being newly resurrected, having a hard time coping with the bills, Dawn and life in general, so I had to be gentle, easy on her. Problem is, patience isn't exactly a virtue of mine.

"If you want to come along," she shrugs and goes into the living room.

I follow her, doing the puppy dog thing that I've become so good at. In fact, I'm thinking of adding it to my CV, if I had one, oF course.

"How about I take over, just for tonight?" I offer again.

"And why would I want to do that?" she sighs.

"'Cause you look just about done in," I say. "Look at you, you look a bloody mess."

"Thanks," she says.

"Go on," I urge. "I'll do it. Have a bath, do your nails, hang with Niblet, whatever. Have a night to be Buffy."

She smiles at me, and if my heart could beat it would break my chest and all that rot. Just a bloody smile and I feel like the sun has got his bloody hat on.

"That's ok," she smiles. "Xander's coming with me tonight," she glances down and picks at her nails. "But er… tomorrow? I'd like to have some time with Dawn, if you could…"

"Whatever," I shrug but inside I'm pleased because she's needs me. In some small way, I'm needed. "So, where's Dawn?"

"Upstairs. She's working on some project," she notices my hesitation. "Go on up. Will you watch her while I go out on patrol?"

"Sure. Thanks," I say and stand up. I pause on the stairs to look at her; she's collecting her weapons together and she's got this little smile on her face. I like to think that it's because I offered to help her out. Maybe Tara was right; kind's the best approach.

"All right, Niblet?" I say, lounging in her doorway.

"Spike?" she wrinkles her forehead. "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, you don't want me, do you?" I sniff and turn away. "I'll just go then, shall I?"

"No!" she cries out and I turn back to her.

"Changed your mind?" I ask. "My, my, you Summers women _are_ fickle."

"Shut up, Spike," she says, almost affectionately. "Now you're here, make yourself useful," she hands me a book and folds her arms. "You were there in the Second World War, right? Help me!"

I grin. Having dug over those memories with Tara only a few days means they're quite fresh in my mind. So I settle back and make myself comfy. I give the book a cursory look then toss it aside with a snort.

"Dawn!"

Dawn rolls her eyes and goes to the doorway.

"What?" she calls.

"I'm going out on patrol. Spike will stay with you."

"Whatever," Dawn replies.

"See ya, Dawnster!" I hear the whelp's voice and I wonder if he's all right with me staying with the Slayer's sis. Not that it matters, no one argues with Buffy Summers. Well, not often, unless you're me o'course. And I wonder why he feels the need to come up with daft nicknames. Thank the Powers I'm not like that.

"'Bye. See ya later – not," Dawn mutters and grabs her notebook and pen before flopping down on her bed, looking at me expectantly.

"Cut her some slack, Dawn," I say.

"Huh?" she's doing such a remarkable impression of Buffy at the moment that I'm wondering if she'll punch me if I say anymore.

"Your sis," I say. "She's having a rough time of it at the minute. Give her some time."

"I've given her time," she moans.

"So give her more."

"But she doesn't spend any of the time I give her with _me!_"

"Tomorrow."

"Huh?" have I mentioned how eloquent Americans are?

"Said I'd take patrol tomorrow, give you two some girl time."

"You're only telling me to take it easy on her 'cause you love her," she says huffily, but I saw the smile in her eyes when I said her and Buffy were gonna have some quality time together.

"But she doesn't love me," I shrug and try not to let it bother me. "So I don't have any particular reason to be nice to her."

"I think she does," Dawn says, tapping her pen to her lower lip. "Love you, I mean. In a weirdo, 'I'm Buffy, I'm the great big Slayer' sort of way. She's just gotta learn to admit it."

"You're an evil bint," I say, my voice sort of weird and croaky. "Throwing a dying man a false hope."

"Dying," she scoffs. "You're _dead_," but the way she says it makes it sound… cool. Like it's ok that I'm other than living, that I don't have a soul, that I was a bloodthirsty killer for years. See, that's why I like Dawn. Must be something to do with her being the Key, knowing that it's what you become and not your past you should be judged on.

"Thanks, Bit," I say quietly.

She gives me a brief hug around shoulders from where she lies on the bed behind me.

"Now, stop it, Spike," she scolds and drops the book back into my lap. Reaching over my shoulder, she flicks to the correct page and leans her chin on my shoulder, "I'll think you're going 'soft' in your old age," she uses one of my words.

Reminds me of that time we were having an argument about summer school in the time Buffy was… away. She suddenly shouted that whatever I had said wasn't the "bloody point." I know I shouldn't've, but I burst out laughing. That was the first time I'd laughed since that night at the tower. Dawn too. In the end, we were holding onto each other, just laughing. I noticed she was crying first and then she saw that I was crying. So we cried. Held each other and just cried, it felt a little better, knowing that whatever happened, we had each other.

Then we made some pancakes; she showed me how to do the shapes. We didn't argue about summer school after that. I had to explain to her that not only did "bloody" sound downright humorous in an American accent, but Giles would probably give me a sharp poke with a bit of wood for teaching an innocent girl such naughty words. So she said she wouldn't say it anymore, as long as I didn't use all her favourite cereal in my blood. We understand each other, me and Dawn.

"So, what you gotta do?" I ask.

"An essay on the role America played in the war," she sighs and I know she'd rather be doing something else. "So, spill it, Bleachie."

"Bleachie?" I turn and raise an eyebrow at her. "I don't have to help you, y'know, _Brownie._"

"Ok, ok," she laughs and grabs her notebook and pen again. "Let the torture that is homework commence."

* * *

I'm actually feeling quite chipper as I wander to the Espresso Pump to get Tara. Actually having a halfway civil conversation with Buffy was the set up to a great evening. With my expert help, Platelet wrote a damn fine essay. I'll knock her teacher bloody senseless if he doesn't give the girl an A; chip or no bleedin' chip. So, after Dawn did her essay, we settled down with a movie, popcorn for her and blood for me. Nice to know they keep some in the house. Nice to know they think of me at all.

Buffy came in and looked surprised to see me and Dawn on the sofa. Guess I looked nice and family orientated with my arm around Niblet's shoulder and her all asleep and young looking. Don't know what Buffy expected, s'not like I can _do_ anything to her, not that I would. Care 'bout Dawn, I do. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I seem to have a fatal attraction to Summers women.

"Hey, Spike," Tara gives me a little wave as I approach and I smile in return. I don't wave, got a reputation, I have.

"Good day?" I ask pleasantly, taking her bag as she straightens her coat before taking her bag back.

I thrust my hand into my pocket and she slips her arm through mine. I like this, this having a friend that isn't ashamed to touch me in public. I wonder why. I mean, the Slayer's got bags of confidence and eventually her friends always come round to whatever decision she makes. Tara, on the other hand, she's as shy as they come and whatever she wants doesn't really hold that much weight with anyone. 'Cept me. I care about her opinion. Never used to, granted, but now I do. So why is it that the shy one doesn't mind that she's showing open affection where anyone of the Scoobies could see and yet the Slayer can barely bring herself to _look _at me in front of her friends? Only one way to find out.

"Tara?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you mind this?" I glance down at her hand, fingers gripping the leather folds of the arm of my jacket, her head resting against my arm. That's how I know she's tired, only ever leans on me when she's tired. She pulls her hand away abruptly and I wish that everything I say wouldn't be taken the wrong way.

"Sorry," she mutters, hair swinging down to hide her from me. "I didn't m-mean. I won't do it a-again."

"It's not that," I answer, pushing her hair back. "I just wondered why you don't mind touching me in public."

"Why should I mind?" she looks genuine, like she really can't see why there'd be a problem.

"The Slayer… Y'know, doesn't want to do anything that would make her friends think there's something between us. Wondered why you don't mind it. You being the shyest of the bunch an' all."

"The bunch?" she repeats. "I was never part of that bunch. They… They um, were – _are_ my friends, but I was never a Scooby. Not like Buffy, W-Willow, Xander and Mr. Giles."

"Me neither," I shrug.

"So, the way I see it," she continues. "Is that I can do what I like."

"Wish the Slayer was more likeminded. Seems the bleedin' world revolves around her friends. Everything has to have their soddin' approval. Daft bint doesn't get that they follow her lead, even if she leads 'em into the gob of a fire breathing-dragon."

She laughs gently and eases her warm arm into mine again, leaning her head against me. Her hair smells nice, not a harsh scent, sort of soft and warm, like her.

"They've been together a long time," she says quietly.

"They're blind is what they are," I snort. "Giving Anyanka a second chance, but me? Do me best to help 'em whenever I can, but what do I get? 'Spike! You helped us – _again_. Now go the hell away because you're disgustin' and soulless.' Can't help loving her, though," I sigh. "Think I'll trade this bloody curse of mine for Peaches soul."

"You'd rather die first," she says and I smile; Tara sizes up most things in a glance, she's intuitive that way.

"True," I admit as we reach the door to her apartment.

She goes straight into the kitchen to make her hot chocolate and heat my blood. I follow her and remove our favourite brand of marshmallows from the cupboard. We settle down in our usual positions; her sprawled across the pull out bed and me sitting in the chair opposite, feet propped on the end of the bed.

"So," she says, smiling widely at me.

"So…?" I ask.

"So, what happened at Buffy's?"

"You mean _with_ Buffy?" I amend for her. "I didn't go to see her," I smile. What? I can't help it! That's what thinking about the bloody Slayer does to me! "I went to see Dawn. But, yeah, we had a civil conversation. Roughly translated that means that no punches were thrown and nothing was broken. One of our more pleasant run ins. I'm patrolling for her tomorrow night, give her some time with Dawn. I think she liked that."

"Told you," Tara grins. "Told you if you were just friendly she'd be all right."

"I'm always friendly!" I protest.

"Yeah but with Buffy it's a s-sexual friendliness."

I shrug, "No-one likes a smart-arse."

"Good thing you're not no-one then, isn't it?"

No, I'm not no-one. I know that, I always _knew _that, but Tara makes me believe it.

"And you?" I ask.

"And me what?"

"How was your day?"

"It was good. I got an invite to Anya and Xander's wedding, Have you been invited?"

"Yeah. God knows why though. Think the whelp's possessed," I know she was just changing the subject, but I don't take the bait. "So what was the bad part of the day?" she thought I hadn't noticed, but I had. In the little moments when we pause to sip our drinks, she looks pensive and worried.

"Willow," she answers quietly.

"Oh," I say and wait for her to continue on her own. Don't want to pressure her, it'd only upset her.

"She spoke to me," she whispers. "She um, came into the Espresso Pump. She asked if we could talk… about us."

"So what did you say, love?"

She sighs and looks so vulnerable that I want to make her feel better.

"I said there wasn't anything to discuss. So she left," she looks down, running her finger up and down the side of her mug.

I'm speechless. Completely. Don't know what to say so I say something typically insensitive.

"Well, even if you and Willow don't get back together, you're gorgeous, you'll soon find a nice bird to grow old with. Just you wait and see."

"It isn't love though, is it?"

She looks up then. Looks me dead in the eye. Once more, I see that echo of myself. And I hate it.


	3. Wedding Daze

_**And Then There Were Three  
**_**Chapter Three: Wedding Daze  
**

Didn't stay too long at the wedding. But the time I was there, I was treated like a little more than dirt. Which was nice, made a change. Doubt it'll last though. Don't ask me where I picked up my "date," I don't want to talk about it, think about it or acknowledge the fact that it ever happened. God knows I've had some dark times in my unlife, but that ranked in the top five. Trying the make Buffy jealous? And I'm supposed to be the cool one?

Saw Tara talking to Red, so I left her alone. She smiled at me though, and waved a little. I returned it of course, but I had other things to think about. Like how beautiful Buffy looked. That it hurt her, albeit a little, that I had brought a date, that she even admitted it hurt. Dawn looked pretty, but I did ignore the dress. My God, that Anya's got some kooky tastes!

I left after talking to Buffy. Didn't take my date back to the crypt to shag her brains out. That's Buffy's influence; if I hadn't seen her, I would've had a bloody good night, but no. Couldn't get the bleedin' Slayer out me mind, didn't want to think that it'd hurt her if I shagged someone else, even though we were over. So I paid for a cab to take my little friend home. She didn't look that disappointed, which made me feel absolutely soddin' brilliant. So, off home I trotted to sit and to brood. Don't worry, my version of brooding is nothing to Peaches. Me, I just settle down with a half dozen large bottles of whisky and a half empty room for my voice to echo round when I get drunk enough to rant. What's that saying? No rest for the wicked? Have to turn over a new leaf then, won't I?

I think I've been avoidin' the Slayer. Don't know why though. Did her patrol that night and that got me a few Brownie points, and I was civil to her at the wedding. Didn't have to be civil or generous and she knew it. See, I'm not the one who broke it off. That's not to say I was altogether _happy_ in our pathetic excuse for a relationship, but I took what was offered, always hoping for a little more. Never getting it of course, but never giving up.

Met Tara then, a couple of days after the wedding. She hadn't worked the night of the wedding or the next night, so she told me I wouldn't have to meet her. She actually came to the crypt to let me know, polite that was. She looked a little tense, but I was too hungover to actually notice all that much. She didn't seem to mind I was hungover.

"Buffy?" she had asked and I had nodded. She patted my shoulder as she left, saying she had to get to class but she'd be working tomorrow and if I wasn't busy, could I meet her?

Said that I would and she gave me a quick hug before she left.

Realised I missed this the last two nights. Missed walking home with her, having her hold my arm and just talk. We settled down once we got back to hers and I ask her about the wedding. She stares at me for a moment, looking a little shocked.

"D-don't you know?" she asks.

"No," I answer slowly.

So she tells me. Tells me how she thought I knew, that she would've told me herself if she knew that I hadn't been informed. I feel sorry for Anya, but I'm getting downright sick of all this soddin' empathy lark, I can tell you. First with Tara over Willow, a little with Dawn over Buffy pushing her away and now with Anya. It's not befitting for a vampire.

But I know how she feels. When Buffy first kissed me, it felt like everything was going my way, that she handed me the world, that I didn't care what happened to me for the rest of eternity, because it was all worth it, just for this moment, that one perfect moment. Her, that kiss, it all made me feel… _alive._ Didn't realise I felt dead 'til she kissed me. But then she tells me it was wrong, a spell, only to kiss me again. Then we slept together and I thought it was all right, that she could deny a couple of kisses, but that she couldn't.

Then came all the old excuses, dusted down and ready to be delivered, "It was wrong," "I'm using you," "It's over." Like I had no feelings, no heart, damn whether it's beating or not, it can still get broken!

I bet that's how Anya feels. Now, compassion ain't one of my many qualities, but I can't help really _feeling_ for her. Xander told her he loved her, not that I ever recall hearing, but he must've to even have reached a proposal. And I'll betcha he promised her the world, then suddenly it's just over. Like I said, like you ain't got feelings or a heart. If I feel bad, then she must feel a thousand times worse. 'Cause it chokes me, that Buffy won't give us a chance, and I haven't even heard the words.

"Where'd she go?" I ask.

"I don't know," she admits.

"Them Scoobies have got a lot to answer for," I burst out. "You, me, Anya. All of 'em have something to do with us bein' miserable."

"Maybe we should start a club?" she suggests lightly, but I can tell she's trying not to think about what Willow did to her, what I brought up with all the subtlety of a troll hammer. Good going, William. But even through that look she gets when she thinks about Willow, I can see she wasn't being serious about the club, but the idea appeals to me.

"Not a bad idea, pet," I say, grabbing my coat and kissing her quickly on the cheek by way of an apology for bringing up Red. Then I leave.

That's all I think about on my way home. What Tara said, _"Maybe we should start a club?"_

I know it's a daft idea, but isn't that what Tara and I have? If we both hadn't been done over by one of the Scoobies, we wouldn't've realised we had so much in common. We talk about it a lot, since that first time when she cried. I told her today, before I asked about the wedding, how Buffy came over to my crypt today and decided that even though it was "over," she wanted me to screw her brains out. Then she left, muttering 'bout how she shouldn't have done this and what was she thinking and this was never, _ever _going to happen again.

And I happened to believe her, that she wouldn't let herself do this again. I sighed as she left; at least in a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, there _is_ a thank you. I told Tara how I tried to resist; tried to pull back 'cause I didn't want to hurt again when she leaves. Told her I couldn't resist 'cause there's always this little voice telling me that this time it'll be different, this time she'll stay, she'll tell her friends and we can do coupley stuff that doesn't just involve sex.

'Cause that isn't all I want from her, the sex, I want more. I want to hold her hand, put my arm around her while we watch a movie, bring her breakfast in bed after a night of actual love rather than just sex. I just want to _be_ with her. Then when she goes, she always does, the same little voice says it's my fault for not proving I loved her, not doing something to show how much I care. So it must be me, but I only half believe that 'cause I try, every time I try, but nothing seems to show the stupid bint I love her so much I'd walk into sunlight if I thought it would help her in some way. Tara does her best. _"Maybe it's this,"_ or _"maybe it's that,"_ but we both know that the Slayer and I were doomed from the word go. It's while I'm thinking this, wandering along thinking and smoking that I find it. It proves a nice little diversion, 'cause I can't wait to tell Tara.


	4. Home Work

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Four: Home Work  
**

"An apartment?" she asks as we walk back to hers the following night.

"Yeah. Real nice one too. Three bedrooms, fully furnished, the works."

"_Three_ bedrooms?" I can tell she's sceptical by the way she wrinkles her forehead as she goes into her apartment.

"Yeah. One for you, one for me and one for little miss ex-demon."

"Anya?" now she's really confused.

So am I. When I saw the place, well, I thought it was great. Tara could do what she wanted with it and I could have a place with hot and cold running water and decent company. I thought we could have the Niblet over to stay some nights in the third room. So, while I was wondering about why I suddenly had these nesting feelings settling in, it hit me: _Anya._ I mean, why not? The rent would be easier to pay if Tara and Anya brought in their steady wages and I made up the rest with the money I get from my little deals. And where's Anya gonna go anyway? I don't think she's gonna want to move back in with Harris. I said all this to Tara and she listened with this sweet half smile on her face.

"What?" I ask.

"You," she says, sitting down, still smiling at me. "Always saying how evil you are – "

"I _am_ evil!"

"- But here you are thinking about me and Anya. About how we can be happy."

"Well," I shrug. "I feel sorry for her is all. You and me – well, me – haven't got much right to be miserable and sorry for ourselves when she was promised a great life only to be left at the altar. And there's me being a bloke, figured you'd probably want some female company around the place. Do what you women do."

She studies me intently for a while, long enough to make me slightly uncomfortable.

"I've just realised I don't think of you as a man," she says.

"Oh, thanks," I snort. "You might want to wave goodbye to my self-esteem as it passes you on its way to the door."

She punches me lightly on the arm. Strange that at one time, near the beginning of our friendship, if our fingers brushed accidentally or she touched me without thinking, she'd blush and glance away, now it's almost second nature.

"No," she says. "I meant that I never thought I could open up to a man, or even have a flowing conversation with a man, then there was you and you understood. That was all I meant."

"Ta, pet," I get up to heat my blood and make her a hot chocolate but she stops me. Gently reminds me that last time I made her a hot chocolate, I poured some blood in it while I laughed at something she had said. I'm not offended that she reminded me 'cause at the time she didn't say it was disgusting, just said that maybe A positive was more her flavour.

"So, how we gonna find Anyanka?" I ask.

"I can do a spell," she answers. "I'll do it tomorrow evening, then we can find her over the weekend."

"Do you want this apartment then?"

"Yes," she pauses and glances down into her drink. "But I don't have enough for the deposit."

"Don't worry about it," I squeeze her shoulder gently. "I've got a fair bit put away. I'll pay the deposit, make up for the times I won't be able to help too much with the rent, me not having a job an' all."

"So you expect me and Anya to pay the rent?" she asks, smiling.

"No," I answer. "I have my fingers in many pies. Problem is, they sometimes go stale on me. I get money, just some weeks are slower than others."

"I know. You'll sort it out tomorrow?"

"If you like."

She grins at me, you would've thought I'd given her the world.

"I don't think I have everything I'll need for the spell to find Anya," she tells me. "And since Anya's gone, and Giles too, I-I think Willow is looking after the shop."

"Want me to pick something up for you?"

"You don't have to."

"I know I don't _have _to, but as I'm goin' that way anyway, might as well."

"Ok, but it's not because I don't want to see her, I have class. I don't want to miss it."

"I know," and I do. I really do.

* * *

Saw Clem today. Told 'im 'bout me and Tara finding Anya and moving into the apartment.

"I live in that block!" he says.

Bugger. Somehow I don't think Tara's gonna take too kindly to moving into what is – by all accounts – a demon paradise.

"They're not a bad lot," Clem tells me as we stroll through the sewers together. "The agents make sure no big bads move in. You'd be the only vampire. And hey! We'd be neighbours!"

Woo-bloody-hoo. But it does sway me a little. If all of 'em are friendly, why not? I'll call Tara; she'll be back from class soon. I'll ask her.

"I know the agent," Clem gives me a knowing grin. From that and the twinkle in his eye, I'd wager skin boy knows the agent well. As in clothes off and shag well.

"You dirty sod," I laugh.

"Can't help it if I'm irresistible!" he protests. "Anyway, I could probably get you a discount, I mean, she _does_ owe me."

"Come on then!" I give me a push. "Haven't got all day!"

With a roll of his eyes, Clem saunters down the sewer, babbling on about something or other. Have I mentioned how much he talks? No? Well, Clem could win gold when he gets goin', but I s'pose he's likeable enough.

* * *

Put the deposit down. Called Tara o'course, I'm not completely insensitive. She said she didn't mind, as long as nothing was going to kill her. I told her even if there was something there that might want to take a chunk outta her, I'd protect her. She laughed, a 'that's-so-sweet' laugh. Come to think of it, I shoulda been insulted, didn't occur to me at the time. So, I left Clem chatting up the agent to go to the shop. I come up through the basement, making a lot of noise; don't want anyone lunging at me with a bit of wood.

"Hey, Spike," Dawn says.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" I ask. Starting to sound like the Slayer, must stop that, don't want Bit turning on me.

Dawn rolls her eyes in typical Niblet fashion.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Touché. Good one, though I wouldn't tell her that. I just frown and study the shelves.

"Seen any," I dig in my pocket for the piece of paper Tara gave me. "Comfrey?"

She points to a shelf and I grab what I want. Fantastic, no-one's around. Then I see Dawn watching me. Oh, bloody hell! I pull the money from my pocket and hand it to her, telling her to give it to whoever's in charge. Don't know why I do it. God knows how many times I've told her how evil I am, should give the girl some proof. Can't bring myself to do it though. Can't bring myself to prove that I don't give a toss about nicking stuff and worse. Don't want her to think I'm bad, not Dawn, not my Niblet.

I pat her on the head as thrust the comfrey stuff in my pocket and stroll back to the basement entrance.

"I got an A."

"What?" I turn back to look at her.

"On that essay," she grins. "I got an A."

"Good on yer."

Always knew she was smart, just had to put her mind to it.

"Thanks to you."

"You did most of the work," I shrug. "I was just there."

She smiles and turns back to whatever she's doin' and I make to leave. Only problem is I've got a glowering Willow blocking my way. She looks kinda twitchy and I remember that she givin' up magic and she's in a magic shop, doin' her buds a favour.

C'mon! Don't her chums have half a brain between them? I know Red and Watcher boy were always the brains of the outfit, but surely, one of them realises that by being surrounded by everything related to what she wants and can't have she might go nuts? I mean seriously nuts, as in blow a hole in the street using only the power of her mind kinda nuts! And leaving Dawn with her too. There are times when I have to remember I have a chip and can't hurt a single one of 'em, and now is one of those times. I mean, they're always goin' on 'bout how they're there for each other, but they don't realise they're left an addicted Wiccan trying to go cold turkey in a magic shop. For Christ's sake!

"What're you doing here?" she asks.

"Buying something," I answer, trying to be pleasant, don't want her going off on one. Thing is, I seem to irritate the Scoobies just by inhaling. Can't think why. Then again, they've always been a tetchy lot, must be that always saving the world thing they seem bent on doin'.

"You have to pay," her voice is flat.

"He did," Dawn waves the money without looking up.

"Betcha late for class," I say to Willow. "I could watch the shop and Dawn 'til someone comes in."

She looks relieved, if a little suspicious. But she grabs her stuff quickly enough.

"Thank you, Spike," she says. Woah, no need to get scary. "I have… class, y'know? Make sure Dawn gets back to school after lunch?"

"Will do."

Then she's gone. Skidadled. Like she was on roller skates on a wet floor. Dawn gives me a look that means Willow's been acting weird all day, then she hands me my money, which I shove in the cash register. I hope no customers come in, me not being shop literate an' all. Dawn starts pushing her stuff into her backpack.

"I've gotta go," she says. "See ya later."

"Yeah."

She goes to the door and I groan.

"Hey, Will, Dawn. How 'bout we – Evil Dead."

"Harris."

"What are you doing here?" he demands.

Well, Harris, waiting for you as a matter of fact. See, I ate the little red-head, tasted quite nice, y'know? Sit down, Bit, I'm gonna turn you. But I'm gonna kill you first, Whelp, then do the Slayer in, have myself a nice little party. Chip? Oh no, that's long gone.

I wish.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Willow has _given up_ magic, so maybe a shop that sells the related paraphernalia isn't the best place for her?"

"Huh?" obviously the thought of someone other than him having problems is a little too complex. He looks like he hasn't had a decent night's kip in days, looks underfed too. But what do I care? He brought it on himself; he'll just have to deal. And he has friends to help him, more than could be said for some.

"I'm here, you nit, 'cause Red was late for class. So, I, being the giving person I am, offered to hold the fort. But seeing as you're here now," I go to the basement entrance. "Think I'll go. Off to school you go, Niblet. Thanks, Harris."

And I make a break for it.

"Wait!"

Ha! Let the soddin' carpenter be late. I have things to do. That was bad, wasn't it? Tricking Harris like that? And I just said that I didn't want Dawn to see that side of me. Oh well, can't hide my true colours that much, just have to settle for fading 'em. Anyway, she'll get over it; she's a survivor she is. Like I said, I've got things to do and time waits for no man – well, vampire.


	5. Moving On

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Five: Moving On  
**

Tara did this squealing, clapping dance when I told her I'd put the deposit down.

"Calm down, love," I told her, catching her wrists to still her for a second. "You haven't even_ seen_ the place. You don't mind that, do you?" I suddenly think that I should have taken her to see it.

"No, no," she shakes her head, grinning widely. "I just _know_ I'll love it. We move in tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I grab her hand and push it firmly through my arm as we walk, she giggles and leans on me. "Sure you don't mind the place being full of demons?"

"I'll be living with one," she twists her head to smile at me. "I don't mind. Like you said, you'll protect me."

"That I will. Always be safe with me, precious."

She blushes slightly at the name, but it is true, she is precious to me.

"Spike?"

"Yes, pet?"

"Would you like to stay the night?" she asks. "You could get your things from the crypt and bring them to my apartment, then stay over. We could get up really early and take everything over before dawn. If that isn't too much trouble?"

"No trouble at all," I smile. "I'll walk you to your door then nip back to get my stuff."

"Good," she nods. "I'll do the spell to find Anya. And, Spike," she puts on a stern voice. "You are not to make me laugh and kept me talking all night, we have to be up early."

"Scouts Honour," I raise a hand.

"I can't imagine you in the uniform," she looks me up and down. "Do you have knobbly knees?"

"I do not!" I retort sharply. "I'll have you know that I have the sexiest knees on the bloody planet!"

"Of course you do," she soothes.

"Don't patronise me!"

"All right then; your knee's are ugly."

I growl and she laughs again. She flits away from me and runs into the apartment block.

"C'mere!" I call. "You think you can outrun me?"

"You fiend!" she teases as she runs down the hall to her door.

I catch up to her at the door and for the first time, I notice how very beautiful she is. Her face is flushed slightly, making her eyes look bluer and her blonde hair flies around her face.

"You caught me," she breathes and we stare at each other for a long moment.

"That I did," I say quietly, as I wonder why neither of us is moving. "I'd better get my things."

"Yes," she nods and turns away, fumbling with her keys. "I'll see you in a while," she stands in the open doorway and passes me the keys. "Let yourself in, I might still be doing the spell."

"All right, love," I take them and she nods a little, then turns away and closes the door.

I stand for a second as I wonder what the hell that was. It would've been easy to kiss her, to reach out and touch her. Didn't though, didn't want to ruin what we had. She's a good girl is Tara. We're here for each other, 'cause of what happened. Never gonna happen again. Ever.

Bugger.

* * *

Buffy walked in on me while I was packing. Not much to pack, not much to show for a couple of years in this place.

I try to pretend she isn't there. She doesn't talk, doesn't open that pretty little mouth of hers. So I carry on packing. I throw my clothes into my duffel bag, followed by books and CDs Harmony _didn't_ destroy. She's still being quiet, just watching. And I still pretend she isn't there. It's hard, 'cause she fills the space, my space. I can hear her, her heartbeat and breathing. I can smell her, her natural scent, the scent of her shampoo and soap and the faint aroma of grease from the DoubleMeat Palace that never really leaves her. It's hard not to run over to her and grab her in my arms.

The voice in my head is whispering to take her, to grab her roughly and throw her to the floor. To shag her, screw her. She wouldn't protest, because that's what she comes here for, that's why she comes to me. I don't though, I could, she'd push me away, but she's never serious. She wants it as much as I want her. But I don't want to shag her, screw her or fuck her, I want what I can't have; to make love to her, to prove I love her more than anything. So I don't touch her, I straighten up and look at her. There's an expression on her face that could be read as dismay. But I doubt that's what it is.

"You're leaving?" she asks, her voice choked.

"The crypt, yeah," I answer.

"Where are you going?" her voice is tiny and vulnerable. Maybe she just came to talk?

"Why do you care?" I snap. I can't do this. Can't stand here and tell her I'm moving in with her best friends exes – that is, if Anya decides to move in. I can't explain myself to her. I'm too tired of it all.

"I don't," there she is, the one I always see. Tough Buffy, the big bad Slayer.

"Then you don't need to know," I smirk. "But, if you want to have a shag to celebrate me leavin', for old time's sake, I'm right here, Slayer. all you gotta do is unwrap me."

She pauses for a second too long and I know she was seriously considering it. But only for a second.

"You're a pig, Spike," she says, spitting out the word.

"Yeah?" I heave my bag onto my bag, reach out to stuff my TV under one arm and the stereo under the other. "Well, this pig's about to sprout wings and fly."

"Where are you going?" she repeats, side stepping as I brush past her out of the crypt.

"Don't worry, Slayer, I'm not leaving town."

"No?" she sticks her nose in the air. "Now that's a shame."

"Oh, just stake me," I cry out suddenly, turning to face her. "I'm all vulnerable," I indicate with a couple of thrusts of my chin that my hands are full. "Can't fight you, can't stop you. So just put me out of my misery already!"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" she sneers.

"No, pet, can't say I much care for being dust."

"I could like you as dust."

"So stop yapping and stake me good an' proper!"

She steps towards me and I see her hand dip slightly to her waistband to retrieve her stake. She hesitates in her step and her fingers relax and fall to her side. She curls her lip in a familiar look of disgust.

"You're not worth it," she hisses.

With that, she turns and flounces off. I watch her for a second then shake my head and carry on my way back to my car to drive back to Tara's. I know she isn't worth it, well, she is, but I know _we _aren't worth it. I know we can never have a relationship, her being mortal and me being immortal. And I know that if ever she admits she cares, there'll always be Angel.

It was because of him that she got this whole "You can't love without a soul" crap, but she's wrong. As Dru said, "We can love quite well, if not wisely." I can never live up to him, not in her eyes, no matter what. I wouldn't want to. I'm me, not Peaches. I try to help her, Niblet and her friends, for the little thanks I get, but it's not enough and I know it never will be. I'll always be beneath her.

But as I walk back towards Tara's, knowing she cares a little about me, that she'll heat me up a mug of blood and make me a comfy bed on the floor, I can't find it in me to care that much.

* * *

She's found Anya. She told me as soon as I came in. Ran at me and grabbed me in a tight hug.

I'm lying here, listening to her breath. She's asleep. True to my word, I didn't keep her up. She fell asleep quite quickly, but I'm turning the night over in my head. That thing with Tara. God, what _was_ that? I hit myself hard in the head with the heel of my hand. I will not think of her that way. Not Tara. Who is very sweet, very caring, very kind, very generous and very, very _gay_.

Gay. As in, she likes women, like Red.

And I love Buffy.

Doesn't matter that she don't love me, or that she don't even _like _me that much, the point is I love her and I'll always be there for her and Dawn. 'Cause I love 'em both and if I hadn't turned to the dark long ago. I've got huge problems. I don't think Satan could help me, let alone the big guy upstairs. If there is a big guy at all.

_Problems?_ I hear you ask. _What problems?_

You think I've got it so good? You think that 'cause I'm immortal and gorgeous I have everything so cool? Well I haven't. For one, I'm in love with a complete bitch who just happens to be the Slayer, aka, my mortal enemy. I can't fight the way I used to, can't feed. Oh and there is the thing that I'm about to move in with a cranky, jilted ex-demon and a sweet young witch who I happen to have developed a very mild cru – oh fuck. See what I mean? You think you got problems? You don't know the half of it, mate.


	6. Room With A View

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Six: Room With A View**

She loved the place. I mean really _loved _it. We didn't have much time, after spending a couple of hours before sunrise loading up my car to get all her stuff and mine to the apartment. She runs around like an excited child now we've made the last trip.

"Spike!" she cries, throwing a door open. "This can be your room!"

I look in and shake my head.

"No, pet," I tell her. "You or Anya can have that room."

"Where will you sleep then?" she asks and I show her the smallest room, which fortunately, only has one small window.

"But it's so small!" she protests.

"I don't mind. You girls have the bigger rooms, and anyway, Mr Sunshine can't get in. Well, not much."

"Oh," she nods and looks like the thought didn't occur to her 'til I mentioned it. "We'll have to get you some dark curtains."

"Don't worry 'bout me, Tara."

"I do," she replies and digs in one of the cardboard boxes. She holds up the large black blanket that I use to get around in the daytime. "Get me the pins?" she asks as she goes into my room.

I look in another box and find them. I take them to her and watch her struggle to hang it over the window. I take pity her and grab her hips to heave her up a little. She's feather light and she struggles a little, kicking out and glaring down at me.

"Put me down," she says.

"All right," I start to lower her. "But you're not going anywhere 'til you get that up and you'll be late."

"Lift me up," she laughs and the blanket is pinned into place in seconds.

She goes into the kitchen and plugs in the microwave to heat my blood.

"Right," she says. "I'll go to class. You drink this and have some sleep. We'll unpack tonight."

"No, I'll - "

"Spike," she interrupts. "I am the lady of the house and I say we'll do it _together_. Ok?"

I laugh then.

"Ok, Tara, pet," I'm startled when she grabs me and hugs me tightly.

"Thank you, Spike," she says. "This is all so wonderful," she pulls back and reaches for her bag and books. "We're going to be happy here," she states firmly. "yYu, me and Anya. We're going to be happy."

She goes then. I believe her, y'know? I look around and decide to go into my darkened room, the sun creeping across the floor coming a little too close. I lay down and I can still smell her.

Happy. That's what she said. Already there, pet.

* * *

Tara came in with Dawn. They were chattering happy, not seeming to notice me. I had taken the blanket down from my room – and yes, it bleedin' hurt – and put it up in here – and nearly got burned to a bloody crisp. I was watching the telly and they paused by my chair.

"Hey, Spike," Tara said.

"Hey," I returned.

I waited for Dawn to say something. Usually you can't get her to be quiet, but now she's glowering down at me, arms folded.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask, looking at her. "Bee in your bonnet?"

"The bee happens to be you," she replies.

"Oh?"

"When were you going to tell me you'd moved?"

Oh. Big sis didn't tell her I'd moved. God, Buffy can be a right cow.

"She didn't tell you," I mutter.

"What?"

"Buffy," I tell her. "She saw me leaving the crypt yesterday. Figured she'd tell you."

"She didn't," but it seems to appease her, she sits down on the floor beside me.

"Where'd you see Tara?" I ask after a while.

"Willow," Tara said, approaching with her head bowed. "Asked me after class if I could pick her up from school and look after her. Apparently there's this big goopy demon about that they're going after."

"And they didn't invite you along?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

"Is pizza ok, Dawn?" she asks.

Dawn nods and leans back a little more, her head leaning against my knee. My hand drifts down to stroke her hair and Tara smiles at me when she sees.

"You all right?" I ask.

She looks at me for a second; she knows what I mean.

"I wasn't, but I am now."

"Do they know you live here? With me?"

"They didn't," she shrugs stiffly. "But I said Dawn would like to see you and Willow asked what I meant. I don't think she was too happy when I told her, but she said at least I wasn't alone. I didn't mention Anya."

"Anya?" Dawn looks up. "You've seen her? Is she ok?"

"We're working on finding her, Dawnie," Tara tells her.

"I think it's cool," Dawn announces. "You two living together. It would be even cooler if I could stay sometimes."

I chuckle and ruffle her hair slightly.

"If you want."

She grins then, all happy. I hope it's not to get away from Buffy. They need to learn to get along. Problem with them two is that they're too alike.

Tara reaches for the phone, but she blushes wildly and hides behind her hair when Dawn says, "You two would make such a cute couple."

Did I ever mention how much I want to damage Bit?

* * *

We didn't receive an exactly _warm_ welcome when we turned up at the motel Anya was staying in. You'd think the bint would've been appreciative of the fact we drove for hours to find her in the middle of bloody nowhere. But no, shouldn't really've expected it, this is Anyanka after all.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, see what I mean? Like a soddin' Arctic breeze when she opened the door.

"We came to find you, sweetie," Tara said gently.

Anya stared blankly at her for a second. There was disbelief and confusion in her eyes and I realised she didn't think anyone would come after her. She thought everyone would rally around Xander and not her. Well, not us, not me and Tara. We're on her side, whether she likes it or not.

"Gonna let us in?" I asked gently.

She studied me and frowned slightly at Tara, then pushed the door open wider and walked away with a muttered, "Come in."

She sat the entire time with her hands twisted together and pressed between her knees. Tara coaxed and promised we'd help her, but she was having none of it.

"I'm not going back," she repeated. "I can't be around him."

I kept quiet the entire time, just sitting watching as Tara comforted and pleaded with her to come back to Sunnydale. Then, after half an hour of it, I lost my rag.

"Look, Anya," I shouted. "We came all this way to see if you were all right. We've got an apartment with three bedrooms when we could've easily got two. We actually give a damn about you! We know how it feels. On some level, we understand. Bloody hell, woman, we _care!"_

"Why?" she whispered, staring at me. "Why do you care? What do you understand?"

I sat back down, not having realised I'd leapt up. Tara glanced at me, disapproving of my methods. She leaned forward and took Anya's hands.

"I lost Willow. I know it's nothing like you, I walked away, not the other way around. But I understand how much it hurts."

"And Spike?" she asked. "How does he understand? And why are you two hanging around together?"

"Spike and I became friends," Tara explained. "He and Buffy had… thing."

I snorted there. Thing, yeah, that was what I'd called it. 'Cause I weren't gonna call it a relationship. Tara looked at me apologetically.

"A thing?" for a second, Anya looked distracted.

"We fought, we shagged, she left," I twisted my lips and ran a hand over my hair. "She always leaves."

"I… didn't know," she said. "You're together? Xan – he never told me."

"He never knew," I shrugged. "Didn't want anyone to know she was banging the evil, soulless thing."

"They don't like demons," Anya said. "Not you, and I think Xander didn't want me because I used to be a demon," she turned to Tara then. "But they didn't mind when they thought you were a demon."

Tara blushed then and bowed her head before she answered.

"They liked you, Anya, Xander was just scared."

"Yeah," I agreed. "They liked you, just didn't like me. So, you coming back or what?"

"No."

And there went my temper again.

"God dammit, woman!" I yelled. "You're not the one who should run away! You're the one that was _wronged!_ You're gonna let him go on like nothing happened? Why should you leave and start over? You've got a job back in Sunny D, a good job that you love, a place to stay with me and Glinda here and people who understand," I grabbed Tara's hand and pulled her up. "But if you want to stay here all on your lonesome and live by yourself, you go right on ahead, we won't stop you. C'mon, love," I pulled Tara after me as I made for the door.

"Wait," Anya called weakly. "I'll come," she lifted her chin and some of the person I knew shone in her eyes. "I don't have to leave. I've cursed men for less than what he did to me," she started grabbing her things together and anger seeped into her voice. "I might not have taken D'Hoffryn up on his offer to return to vengeance so I can't curse him, but I can make him very uncomfortable..."

She's curled in the back seat right now. Trying to stare out of the window, impossible, seeings as I painted 'em black years ago. Tara keeps throwing her anxious glances. I glance up to look in the mirror and I see Tara reach out to take Anya's hand. Anya squeezes it. It's strange, this silence. Anya's usually always talking. I remember the night Buffy died when she was trying to get everyone to "think outside of the box." Got on me bleedin' nerves at the time, then she came up with the idea of using the Dagonsphere and the troll hammer. If she hadn't come up with that, we wouldn't've had a leg to stand on. Smart girl.

"My things," she whispers suddenly.

"What's that, pet?" I ask.

"My things," she repeats. "They're all at ho – Xander's, I mean."

"We'll get them for you," Tara says.

"No," Anya replies firmly. "I'll go. I shouldn't have to avoid him."

"Want me to swing 'round now?" I ask. "Tara could go in with you, I'll wait outside."

"Yes," she nods. "You'll come with me?" she asks Tara.

"Of course, sweetie."

So I swing the car around and go the few blocks to Harris's apartment. I park outside and Anya and Tara climb out. I watch 'em for a second, 'til they disappear, then I lean back and light a ciggie. Looking forward to the future, I am. Got a good friend in Tara and… Well, I don't know what Anya could be, but she doesn't irritate me as much as her ex does.

Talk of the bloody devil. The loud rapping on my window accompanies the familiar scent of Xander. That smacks of spending too much time with 'em, me knowing their scents. Know all of 'em off by heart. Makes me sick to think I know 'em just by a quick sniff.

"What?" I ask, winding the window down to glare at him.

"I was late for work yesterday, thanks to you," he snaps.

"Sorry about that, mate. But if you will put innocent children in a shop with a addict, you have to be prepared to make sacrifices."

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

Twat still doesn't get it. So I'd best lay it all out, hadn't I?

"Red gave up magic," I tell him.

"I know," he snaps. "She's my friend, not yours."

"Yet I seem the only one who realises that just 'cause she gave up magic doesn't mean she's hunky-dory. Do you shove a drug addict in a room full of the stuff? No, you bloody well don't and drugs aren't half as dangerous as magic is."

He looks like he gets it and his eyes widen.

"Oh, no," he mutters. "But she said she was fine looking after the shop."

"'Cause she's really gonna tell you to stick it, isn't she?"

He looks annoyed. Like it's _my_ fault the little witch went apeshit and nearly killed Bit. Like it was _me_ who chained her to the shop. Always the bleedin' scapegoat, me, you'd've thought I'd be over it now, wouldn't you?

"Why are you hanging around here, Spike?" he asks.

"Waiting for us."

Xander whirls around and gawps at Tara and Anya. I get out the car and take the two cases from Tara, noticing the bits of clothing dangling out, looks like she packed quick. I throw 'em in the trunk, take the large cardboard box with magazines and things in Anya's arms, and put it in the front passenger seat. Then I lean against the car and light a new cigarette, ready to watch the fireworks. And lucky me got a front row seat.

"Anya," Xander steps forward, arms wide, like he's gonna hug her. Blind sod at the best of times, but could you _miss_ two honking cases and a box that screams 'I'm moving the fuck out'?

She steps back, warding him off with her hands.

"Don't, Xander," she says quietly.

"You came back, hon," he breathes.

"I came back," she states. "But not to you."

He looks floored, like he doesn't get why she wouldn't come back to him. God, does the guy need _everything_ spelled out to him. Maybe his chums should invest in a little board. He could probably get life if he had the appropriate diagrams.

"Why not?" he asks. Here we go, no way Anya's gonna stand for that.

"Why not?" she repeats, her anger evident in her voice. "_Why not?_ Because you left me at the altar, Xander! Because you did the romantic proposal before the world was due to end, told me you loved me and then you just _left._ I think I'm supposed to say that it's not you, it's me, that's what they always say in the movies. But it's not me, it's you."

Ouch. He winced at that one. Not surprised, I would've too.

"Ahn, I didn't mean to hurt you - "

"But you did," she snaps. "And you know what? D'Hoffryn offered me the chance to be a vengeance demon again," I remember her mentioning that back at the motel and now I'm glad that I don't have to be surprised and I can revel in his shock instead. "But I didn't take up his offer."

"I – I… Why…?" he gapes, looking wonderfully like a fish out of water. Wonder if he'll die from lack of oxygen. If he did, I wouldn't have to help, having no breath and all. So, I couldn't be blamed if the whelp died. Of course, Buffy would find a way round that.

"Why?" Anya looks like she doesn't know herself. "Because I like my life. Apart from the pain of you leaving me, I like it here. I like having friends and a job. I can't have that as a vengeance demon. I don't see why I had to give up what I enjoy just because of you. I've spent centuries cursing men because women couldn't just get over it, I won't be one of them," she looks at Tara, who's been silent the entire time. Watching the scene play out without hiding in her hair. Then Anya looks at me, pleading silently. So I turn and open the back door. She turns and begins to climb in, but Xander grabs her arm and yanks her back.

"Where are you going?" he demands. "With him?"

"Home," she retorts. "With Tara and Spike."

Tara touches my arm when she notices I'm trying hard not to drag Harris off Anya.

"We have an apartment," Tara informs Xander calmly but firmly. "Spike and I. There's a third bedroom Anya can have. She'll be fine, we'll take good care of her."

"I don't mind her moving in with you, Tara," Xander says. "But I won't let her move in with _him_," he jerks his chin in my direction.

"Why not?" I ask, talking for the first time since Anya and Tara came out. "I haven't so much as touched her. You, on the other hand, are hurting her," I toss my cigarette away before I reach out and easily remove his hand from her elbow. I endure a brief flash of pain from my rough treatment of the delicate human, but it's worth it just to see Xander's face as Anya rubs her elbow.

"Anya, I didn't mean…"

"But it still hurts," she says quietly, I know she isn't talking about her arm, she's talking about her heart. Then she ducks into the car and sits still and calm. Tara places a nervous but gentle hand on his arm.

"We will look after her," she promises.

"I'm not worried about you," he says, then looks down his nose at me. "I don't want her around him."

"Fine," I say and stick my head in the car. "Anya? You can't come and live with me and Tara. Now if you don't move in with monkey boy, you'll have to find a comfy shop doorway somewhere," I smirk at Xander's stupidness. "Like a delivery to the night time nasties."

"Don't you threaten her!" Xander yells.

"I'm not!" I shout. "You're making all the bloody threats! You can't have her, so she can't be happy, that it?"

"No - "

"Then give it up!" I turn to Tara. "Ready, pet?"

"Wait," Xander grabs Tara's shoulder, not hurting her though, but I might rough him up a bit just for touching her all the same. "Why are you living with him? Willow told me you were, but why?" he lowers his voice to a hiss. "He's a _vampire_."

"He's my friend," she says. "And he's not going to hurt me or Anya. He understands, Xander. How I felt after… He does."

"Yeah, he understands. Because bleach boy had such normal relationships. There was the fruitcake responsible for making him the bane of our existences in the first place. Then there was Harmony. And now you spend your time moping after Buffy, who would never look twice at you because you, Spike, are just an evil disgus - " I didn't let him finish. I grabbed his coat and whirled him round, banging him into the car.

"Shut up!" I growl. "You don't know anything about me and Dru, or Harm. And you don't know the first thing about me and Buffy either!"

"You and Buffy?" he mocks. "You mean the little thing you have going on?"

What? She told him? Does that mean…? Then I see the sneer on his face, the way his lip curled up as he pushed me away. Arsehole. I could kill him.

"In your imagination, I mean," he continues. "Because Buffy would never touch you. Ever."

"You - " I grab him again, slamming him once more into the car. Tara knows I'm about to blurt it out, tell him how Buffy shagged me more times than I can count and in countless positions.

"Spike," she warns.

I slam him hard into the car, making him wince and me flinch. Then an arm reaches out and grabs my coat. I glance down and Anya's looking at me.

"Don't," she says. "You don't beat him up. It's supposed to be my father or brother."

"But you don't have 'em," I tell her. "So I'll do it on their behalf."

"No," her voice is stronger now and she struggles out of the car to stand with her hands on her hips, glaring at me. No, wait, glaring at _Xander._ "Please let him go," so I let him go and step back. "I will move in with Tara and Spike. You can't stop me, you have no control over me anymore. Does he?" she looks at Tara who shakes her head. "I can't do this now, Xander. I'll be coming into work tomorrow and every day after that."

"All right," he nods and starts to walk away, pausing before me. "You touch her," he warns. "You hurt one _hair_ on her head and I'll stake you myself."

"I could never hurt her as much as you have," I say and put an arm around her shoulders. I take slight pity on him when he glances away. "But I won't hurt her. Or Tara."

He studies me for a second then gives a tiny nod. Then he walks away. I push Anya gently towards the car and she crawls inside. Tara looks at me and smiles.

"It was good, what you did, not telling him about you and Buffy," she says. "That's up to her."

"I know," I shrug. "But she never will."

Tara smiles again, ruefully this time as she gets in the car beside Anya. I glance back to see Xander disappear into the building. His shoulders stooped and his walk slow and laboured.

I've felt like that.


	7. Blue

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Seven: Blue  
**

She settles in quite quickly. She looks around the place a bit. Says it needs a bit of brightening up. Straight talker, I like that. She frowns at my battered telly, according to her, we have to get a nicer one, one that costs a fair bit. Not gonna argue with that one. Tara sits her down on the red couch and makes her a hot chocolate, pressing it into her hands.

"Want to sleep, pet?" I ask, lifting my bare feet onto the coffee table and taking a swig of my blood. "You look just about done in."

"I can't sleep," she says. "I don't understand all this," she looks warily at Tara. "Is this like when Joyce died? Am I not supposed to ask how I get through this?"

"No, no, sweetie," Tara says gently. "When Joyce died, everyone was very upset, they couldn't deal with the questions. That wasn't your fault. And we didn't have the answers, we don't understand either. But this, you can ask, no one will mind."

"I – I don't think it'll ever stop hurting."

"It will," she reassures her. "It hurt so much when Willow and I… And it still does, but when I talked to Spike, it felt better."

"It did?" hope ignites in those brown eyes of hers.

"Yes," Tara brushes Anya's hair back. "All you need to know is that Spike and I will be right here for you, we know how you feel."

"Yeah, love," I agree. "So you can throw a wobbly or not talk to us, we won't run out on you."

She looks me dead in the eye.

"Why do you care?" she asks.

"I -" why _do_ I care? Bloody hell, what's with all the questions? "I... know how it feels. I didn't have anything like you and Xander or Tara and Red, but I get it. That lot, the Scoobies, they've got each other, but I didn't have anyone. So I decided to go see Tara and we've got stuff in common. Then she told me about you and I figured you could do with a friend. Going against my nature, but you and Tara were the only two that were actually halfway decent to me. Owe ya one."

"Thank you," Anya says. "Both of you. I kept expecting Xander to come find me, but he never did. I guessed he really didn't care anymore. At least now I know someone cares."

I swing my legs off the table and stand up, draining my mug. I go to wash it up; the conversation's getting a little too intimate for my taste. Next thing you know, we'll be having group hugs or doing the admissions thing. _"My name's Spike and I've got a fatal attraction to a Scooby gang member."_

"Do you want any help unpacking?" Tara asks.

"Yes," Anya nods. "That would be appreciated."

"Aren't you two tired?" I ask as I come back into the living room, it's late, figured they'd go to bed.

"I think I'll stay up very late," Anya states. "And decorate my room."

"You've got work," Tara reminds her.

"I know, but I want to settle in. I heard that it's best to make a quick, clean break. I want to make this my home," she frowns at me. "I don't like smoke in the air, Spike."

I laugh and stub it out.

"And it was my idea to have you here?" I ask. "What _was _I thinking."

Anya looks stunned and she places her mug on the table with a soft clunk.

"What?" she asks.

"What, what?"

"You wanted me here?"

"Yeah," I shrug. "No big d -"she knocks the air I took in to speak out of me as she launches herself at me. Hugging me tightly around the neck. Damn good thing I don't have to breathe. I pat her back awkwardly and look at Tara, waggling my eyebrows to get her to help me. She just leans back and smiles. It doesn't take long for me to realise Anya's sobbing. It's scary. That someone could hurt that much. And I thought I had it bad. Tara moves over to me and rubs her back as I hold her a little more tightly.

The poor bint cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Ever noticed how disgusting the smell of paint is? And how satisfying a bloody good sulk is? Not that I'm sulking or anything, 'cause that's downright bloody juvenile and Dawn's already got full membership in the sulkers club. I'm merely silently protesting. And no, I _am not_ pouting. Tara pokes her head around the door of my room and nibbles her lip.

"You still mad?" she asks.

"Mad?" I glance at her, looking suitably uninterested in her obvious discomfort. "Why would I be mad about you painting my room the poncyest shade of blue imaginable? In case you forgot, I happen to be _Spike,_ the _Big Bad. _I'm _not_ Angel, whipped puppy and lover of all things poofy."

Why the little cow! She's bloody giggling! Well, ok, _trying_ not to giggle, but she's not very successful.

"I'm sorry, Spike," she sits on the end of my bed and for some insane, Wiccan reason, starts fiddling with the ankle of my pants, twisting the fabric in her fingers. "Anya and I thought it would be nice for you."

"Nice?" I snort. "To wake up to the nauseating smell of fresh paint? Which, by the way, gives me a headache, and it's the ugliest shade of blue."

I glare at the walls. I suppose it could have been worse. If Dru had been 'ere, she probably would've likened the colour to the shade of night just before full darkness falls. But then again, Dru would've eaten Tara and Anya and used their entrails to decorate the rest of the room so her's is not exactly the most reliable opinion. And she isn't here. I guess they could've painted it powder blue or pink or something disgusting.

"Why couldn't you paint them red?" I ask. "Or black?"

"Because we're painting the living room red and black's just depressing, you wear enough black as it is. It can't be good for you."

"I'm a _vampire_," I tell her. "I _love _red and black, they're the official colours of my breed."

"Oh, Spike," she flicks her finger against my big toe. "If you want us to change the colour, we will."

"And have to smell this crap for another week? You've got to be kidding me!"

"It's like living with a two year old," she mutters.

I jerk my foot away from her warm little fingers, fold up arms across my chest and glare at her.

"Vampire hearing," I remind her. "I heard that. And I'm _not _acting like a two year old! I'm one hundred and twenty six; I've got _years_ on you! Respect your elders, missy!"

She laughing again, doubled over and laughing her pretty little head off. And there it is again. Haven't thought of her as beautiful since that night I stayed at hers before moving here. And that was a week ago. But she is, y'know, beautiful I mean and when she's laughing it's even more obvious.

She's gasping for breath and pressing her hand to her chest to regain her composure. Bloody hell. Shouldn't think about her like that. She's my roommate, friend and she's gay. Really must remember she's gay. I mean, I _know_ I'm gorgeous, I don't have a reflection or anything but Dru liked to play with cameras when they first came out and she liked to take pictures of her Spike. So I do remember what I look like, but I don't think the sight of my naked manly good looks will turn Tara straight. I'm a lot of things but delusional I am not, couldn't be when I had to be the sane one out of the dynamic duo that was Drusilla and I. Tara's frowning at me.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Eh?"

"You. You have think face, what's behind the think face?"

"Thoughts," I hedge. What can I say? _Well, Tara, I was thinking 'bout how gorgeous you are and how much I'd really like to screw you. Say, Anya's in her room, wanna go a round or two? _Can't really see her leaping into my arms with gallons of enthusiasm, so I hedge a little more. "Thinking 'bout Dru and me. And how you owe me one for painting my room this offensive colour."

She rolls her eyes and twists slightly on the bed. She draws her feet up under her and takes my bare feet into her lap.

"Will a foot rub make up for it?" she asks almost shyly.

"It'll do for now," I answer and she begins to knead my feet gently. Feels nice this does, relaxing.

"You have pretty feet," she says and I grunt; pretty feet, my arse! She blushes a little. "Tell me about you and Drusilla."

"I don't think you'd want to hear about that, Glinda."

"You could leave out all the gory bits and PG the stories," she urges. "Please? I want to hear about your time before I knew you, before you came to Sunnydale."

Well, if the girl's givin' me the best foot rub I've ever had, I might as well tell her. She looks interested as I tell her. This isn't like the time I told Bit about the coal bin, and this isn't like the bull I fed Buffy about my human life and my "gang." I give her the truth. Tell her what a pansy I was, what an arsehole Angelus was, what a bitch queen Darla was and how much I loved Drusilla.

"Do you miss it?" she asks. "Being with Drusilla, Angelus and Darla?"

I open my mouth to tell her that no _way_ would I go back to having to do whatever Angelus and Darla told me, wouldn't go back to watching Angelus toy with Drusilla. But instead I gave her the truth.

"Yeah," I answer quietly. "It was crap. I had to do whatever Angelus told me, listen to Darla moan about me and look after Dru when Angelus decided he didn't want to play with her anymore, but they were my… family, y'know. However much I hated 'em, they were the ones that were there."

"I know what you mean," she answers quietly and pauses in her foot rub. "My family… I didn't like how they treated me but they _were_ my family."

"You can pick your nose but you can't pick your family," I shrug and nudge her knee to remind her she still had making up to do.

"Spike!" she scolds with a smile. She gives my feet a final squeeze then stands up and walks to the door. "Spike?" this time my name's a question.

"Yeah, love?"

"You punched me that time on the nose, remember?" she touches her nose then, rubbing it lightly.

"I remember," I reply.

"Thanks," she says.

"You what?" I ask, genuinely surprised. "You're thanking me for nearly breaking your nose?"

"Yes," she frowns like she can't believe it either. "But if you hadn't done it, I would have still thought I was a demon. And you said you didn't care what happened, but you did it anyway."

"No need to thank me," I shrug but I'm quite pleased that she doesn't hold that against me.

"I've got that paper to work on," she tells me. "I just hope Anya doesn't disturb me."

"Still?" I ask incredulously. "You've been working on that since we moved here."

"It's important," she shrugs.

"There are more important things."

"I know."

I smile as she leaves. I really like her. Really.


	8. Night Out

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Eight: Night Out**

Anya twirls around, but I'm not looking at her. I'm _trying_ to look under her arm at the bleedin' telly while she prances in front of it. Tara doesn't look up either; she's bent over the table, scribbling away.

"Well?" Anya demands.

"Well, you're blocking the bloody telly!" I shout.

"No need to be rude," she answers. "Just tell me what you think."

She puts her hands on her hips as I study her. Have to admit the girl looks knockout. Tight fitting black pants and a sparkly red top. Remember I said I like red and black?

"You look all right," I tell her non-commitedly.

"I'm going to the Bronze," she says enthusiastically.

"Why?" Tara asks, glancing up briefly.

"To partake of alcoholic beverages, eat fatty foods knowing full well I risk heart disease and an early, painful death. I shall then move on to dancing energetically to dangerously loud and obnoxious modern music and return in the early hours of the morning and refuse to say where I've been."

"You've been to the Bronze," I point out. "You just told us."

"Oh," she looks crestfallen. "Well, I'll just have to scrap that last bit. Have a nice time alone here in the apartment on a Saturday night."

"Hang on," I grab my duster and shrug it on. "I'll come."

"Why?"

"Don't want any nasties taking a bite outta ya, do we? And what if Xander's there?"

"Spike…" Tara says, her voice is a warning.

"What?" I glance at her and she raises her eyebrows at me. "Oh, sorry, Anya, pet."

"That's ok. If Xander is there, I shall ignore him. In my world, he is little more than a bug."

"Your world?" Tara looks amused.

"Yes," Anya frowns. "My world includes the shop, this place and you guys," she studies us for a second. "Maybe I should broaden my horizons?"

"Thanks. And I was just starting to like you," I huff.

Anya cocks her head to the side and studies me.

"You like me?" she asks.

I back pedal, warding her off with my hands. She's been jumpy ever since we got her back here. Every little thing Tara or I say that indicates we like her and like having her around makes her jump on us. And I do mean _jump_. Guess she's a little insecure, after being left at the altar and all, that damages you. Not that I'd know or anything, I'm just using that perceptiveness Tara said I had the other day.

"Yeah," I tell Anya warily. "You're not bad," her eyes well up and she gives me a molten chocolate smile as she steps toward me. "Don't hug me," I order. "I'm evil. Grrr, nasty. Don't wanna provoke me into killing you."

Tara snorts with laughter. Being blessed with fantabulous hearing means I heard her mutter _"evil!"_ like someone – a talking puppy for instance – had said they're evil. Makes a man feel… Well, less manly.

"Hey!" I protest. "I'm evil. Only thing standing between you two and a painful death is this bloody chip. When I get it out, I'm gonna kill everyone," the two of them raise their eyebrows. "Oh all right," I relent. "Except you two. And Bit."

"That's less evil," Anya (un)helpfully points out.

Tara glances back down at her paper and scribbles what must have been the last word or two 'cause she looks up and grins.

"Finished!" she announces.

"'Bout bleedin' time," I grumble.

"Yay!" Anya says. "You can come out with us. But, you know, change first. You look cheap, it might reflect on me."

"Cheap?" Tara asked, a hint of her old self – the self I knew before I turned up at her apartment – creep into her voice.

"Oh, I don't mean whore cheap," Anya explains. "You'd never wear anything like that. I just meant your clothing looks inexpensive."

Tara looks down at her blue sweater and black pants.

"I think she looks nice," I say.

"Oh, that's sweet," Anya smiles. "But she's gay."

There's an uncomfortable silence and Anya beams while Tara and I shuffle uncomfortably. Well, I shuffle; she just grabs her things and bundles them into her arms.

"I'll go change," she mutters as she rushes past us.

"Don't be too long!" Anya calls cheerfully.

"God, Anya," I mutter.

"What?" she asks innocently.

"I know full soddin' well that the girl's gay," I hiss. "I was paying her a compliment, like when I said you looked fine in your get up," I wave my hand at her clothes.

"So you can comment on people of the opposite sex's appearance and it isn't flirting?" she asks.

"Yes," I answer.

"Oh," she says. "Then I think you are very good looking with beautiful eyes, cheekbones to die for and you smell really good. Oh, and your hair looks nice now you've let it curl a little."

I'm floored by her compliments and my hand goes up to pat self consciously at my hair. Tara appears quietly. I glance at her and try hard not to do a double-take; she wearing a dark red bodice thingy over burgandy pants. Her hair's loose and floating around her face.

"You look… different," I almost stutter – _wanker._

Anya nudges Tara and smiles in what I guess she thinks is a reassuring manner.

"That was a non flirtatious compliment," she informs her. "He doesn't fancy you and he knows full well you're gay."

Glad we'd cleared that one up. Thanks, Anyanka.

* * *

So, we went to the Bronze and of course we ran into the Scoobies. Walking in like they owned the bloody place. Buffy in the middle with Xander and Willow on either side. Felt a bit left out, I can tell you, when they noticed us. Xander and Willow looked all happy to see their respective exes, but Buffy clocked me and curled her lip. Yeah? Well, fuck you too, Slayer.

"Tara," Willow said as she approached.

"W-Willow," she stutters.

Fun evening this is turning out to be.

"Hey, Ahn," Harris says, waving like the loser he is.

"My name is _Anya_," she tells him coldly without looking at him. Go, Anya.

"Oh," he says and just stands there like a bleedin' lemon, only, y'know, not bleeding.

Buffy folds her arms and glares at me and Willow and Tara just glance at each other.

"Want something?" I ask. "Lemme guess, the world's gonna end and you want our help? 'Cause you lot sure as hell wouldn't come near us for anything else."

"Listen, bleach boy," Xander says, rounding on me. "I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm changing the rules. Anya, want to dance?"

"Yes," she says, standing up. "But not with you."

Tara glances quickly at me and gets up.

"I'd better g-go with her," she says and eases past Willow.

"Ok," Willow says too brightly.

They stand there awkwardly and I take a gulp of my beer.

"You're making the place look untidy," I say.

"You're making it worse," Xander snaps.

"Bugger. Off," I tell him slowly. "You don't want my company, I don't want yours."

Xander clenches his fists.

"Just give me a reason, Spike," he hisses. "Just give me a reason to ram a tree through your chest."

"You already got one," I tell him, glancing over his shoulder at Anya. "You just ain't man enough to do it."

He glares at me and then whirls around, stalking off.

"He's just a little cranky," Willow says. Wow, cushioning my feelings? I'm touched, Red; really. "Can I ask you something?"

Buffy stares at Willow in surprise.

"I'm getting a table," she says.

"Oh, ok, Buffy. I'll be over in a minute," Willow says.

"What is it then, Red?" I ask.

"Tara," she states. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine, far as I can tell," I shrug.

"You and Anya, you're taking care of her?"

"Last time I looked, she was fully grown, can take care of herself, I'd wager," I tilt my head to the side and study her. "But I've not hurt her delicate feelings if that's what you're after."

She nods and stands up. I wait for her to leave, but she shows no sign of leaving.

"Spike," suddenly she sounds stern, not like she did two seconds ago. Iif you hurt one hair on her head, I'll take you apart."

"And I wonder what she'd do to you if you did that, Red," I sneer.

Tara's got her principles; Willow doesn't seem to have any. Which is probably why I have no doubt whatsoever that she would follow through with her threat, despite her giving up magic and all. She goes in much the same way Harris did, glaring and stalking. I sip my beer and watch Tara and Anya dance. They throw nervous glances towards the Scoobies but after a little while they let go. Might go join 'em in a –

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"And I was hoping for a quiet evening."

"Then you should've avoided this place at all costs," Buffy answers, sliding into the seat opposite me.

"Buffy," I start. "We were getting on - "

"If you mean the sex, that was just - "

"I didn't mean the sex," I interject. "I meant that night I did the patrol for you and the night before, we had a civilised conversation. I get that it's over, I've had it literally drummed into me, but all I'm asking for is a little respect."

"Respect?" she scoffs. "Because a brutal killer who has an unhealthy obsession with me and who is currently living with friends of mine for some obscure reason, deserves _respect_."

"Friends?" I ask. "Tara and Anya are your _friends?_ Not from where I'm standing. Tell me, Slayer, since Willow and Tara and Xander and Anya broke up, have you _once_ invited them to a meeting, or a group outing like you had tonight? No, didn't think so. But you _did_ get Tara to look after Dawn for you, and you don't seem to mind Anya running the shop, 'cause I bet that annoyed you. Having to take on responsibility of the shop, that must of got right up your nose. But now Anya's back, that's not your problem. What you don't seem to realise is that your pals, Red and Harris, were the ones who destroyed their relationships, Anya and Tara were the victims, but you didn't side with them. You really are a piece of work," she looks stunned. I can tell she's angry, but she doesn't seem to have a witty retort. Not like her. Might as well fill the silence. "And as for the unhealthy obsession with you? It's well on it's way to being cured. I think you'll be in for a nasty shock when you come a-knocking on my door for some loving and find I don't play by those rules anymore."

"I would never knock on you door," she sneers, standing up and looking down that pretty nose of hers. "_Never_. And civil? I was only civil to you because I couldn't stomach your face when I stepped on that inflated ego of yours. That… _thing _we had? Biggest mistake I ever made. You're getting over me? I never had to get over you. There was nothing to get over."

And she leaves. Sneers one last time then walks away. Ok, that hurt. Glad I got the first punch in though, figuratively speaking of course.

"Hey, Spike," Anya slides into the seat to my left while Tara takes the seat to my right.

"I saw you talking to Willow," Tara said quietly.

"Yeah, warned me not to hurt you. Said she'd take me apart," I try to sound casual and wonder if I do.

"What did Xander say?" Anya asks.

"That he'd stake me."

"That's nothing new," Anya shrugs unconcerned.

"What did Buffy say?" Tara asks.

"Dunno what game I'm playing, I have an unhealthy obsession with her, I'm up to something, I'm beneath her, she'd never come to me for sex again. The usual and we all know what follows."

"A punch up, then mutual and plentiful orgasms?" Anya offers, sipping her drink.

"Give the girl a medal."

"I think I want to go home now," Tara whispers, looking over at Willow who's blatantly staring at us along with Xander. Buffy's wittering on about something, but even she's not daft enough to think they're actually _listening_ to her.

"You don't have to go 'cause of her, Glinda," I tell her. "You've as much right to be here as them. All three of us do."

"I know," she answers. "But I'm tired and I want to have a long shower before I go to bed. I think I deserve it after spending all day on that paper."

"Ok, precious," I gulp back the last of my beer, then stand up. "Coming, Anyanka?"

"I guess, Peroxide Pest," she grins.

"Little below the belt," I say. "Even for you."

They laugh and I drape my arms around them, just for show, nothing else to it. Even at this distance, I can feel the anger and jealously rolling off Buffy, Xander and Willow. See how they like it.


	9. Chateau Scrappy

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Nine: Chateau Scrappy  
**

Turns out I moved in with a couple of early morning cartoon addicts. I stumble out of my room and avoid strips of sunlight. Tara stands up and, without taking her eyes off the telly, twitches the curtains more tightly closed. I like that she did that to protect me. Nice to know someone _doesn't_ want me fried extra crispy. Anya tosses me a thick black blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders. Wow, Anya wants me in one piece too. Will you look at all the lovely unbelievable occurrences that keep piling up?

I settle on the floor, hugging a cushion beneath my chest and pull the blanket up over my head, to protect me from the tiny sliver of sunlight that stubbornly fought it's way through the curtains, despite Tara's constant adjustments. They're watching Scooby Doo. Didn't like that when it first came out, probably why I took an instant dislike to the actual Scoobies. That and the fact their leader _was_ my mortal enemy.

"I was thinking," Anya said.

"Don't hurt yourself," I answer and a cushion bounces off my head.

"As I was saying," Anya sniffs haughtily. "If Buffy, Xander and Willow are the Scoobies, are we the Scrappies?"

"I should bloody well hope not," I snort.

"I never liked Scrappy Doo much," Tara said, watching as the little twat pranced around on the screen, screeching about _"pup-pyyy power!" _Why doesn't the little wanker shove his power up his puppy sized arse? Better yet, why doesn't his uncle _"let him at 'em!" _with any luck they'd tear him into tiny, less annoying pieces.

"Why don't you like him?" Anya asked. "I thought cute things were loved by all. Is he not cute?"

"Yeah, I guess. But doesn't he _grow_ and how doesn't he notice that his uncle Scooby's a yellow bellied coward?" Tara asks, studying the little thing. "And his head is out of proportion to his body."

"It's all a conspiracy," I agree. "To draw young children in and tempt them to by the toys which brainwash them and turn them into homicidal maniacs."

"Oh," Anya accepts this as the truth; living on the Hellmouth does that to you. "We should stop him," she tells us. "Kick puppy ass."

Tara and I turn and look at her.

"Ever heard someone's expression likened to that of a "kicked puppy"?" I ask her.

"Well, yeah, but if it's an evil puppy…"

"I don't hate him that much," Tara said. "And he is sort of sweet."

"Oh, yeah," Anya shrugs. "We don't fight the big evil anymore. Sorry, I forgot."

"Hey," I protest. "I fight evil! I kick demon arse every night!"

"Is that what you do?" Anya asks. "Tara told me you go to a knitting group."

I look at Tara, absolutely bloody outraged.

"Glinda!" I shout. "What the hell do you think you're playing at? Making me look pansy arsed?"

"You ass is quite nice," Anya informs me.

"Repeat that later when I'm less indignant," I tell her, not moving my eyes off Tara who's looking amused, if a little stunned.

"Hey, I was joking," she says, holding up her hands. "I didn't think she actually believed me."

"Don't you think I've got enough of a complex about being half baked without you babbling on about knitting?" Satan knows why I took it so to heart. Guess seeing Buffy and being told I was nothing hurt more than I thought.

"Spike," she says. "I was a joke. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Don't start that," I say, leaping up. "I know you don't mean it, just a way to get me to stick around and do stuff for you."

"No," Tara stands up and shakes her head, reaching out to touch my hand. I jerk away and the blanket slides off. I step back and my wrist is grazed by sunlight. I hiss and pull it back. "Calm down," she tells me, taking my hand and leading me into the bathroom where she gently binds the burn.

"Sorry," I mumble. "Didn't mean to go off on one."

"That's ok," she says quietly. "I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?"

I get a strange feeling then, not something I can actually put a name to. But to have her sweet little voice ask if she hurt _my _feelings, the feelings she insists I have, feels nice.

"No, pet," I shake my head and concentrate on the bandage she tenderly wrapped around my wrist. Don't know why she did it, she knows it'll heal in a few minutes. I feel her warm, soft hand cup my chin and pull my face up 'til I'm looking into her pretty and concerned face.

"Tell me why you're acting weird?" she seems to be asking permission, like she ain't got a right to know how I feel. All rot of course; girl's got more right to ask than most.

"Buffy," I sigh. "It's always her. Can't get rid of her. I try, Tara, then I'll see her. On patrol or at the Bronze and she'll make some little comment. And then sometimes, like that time I saw Dawn at her house and helped her with the essay, remember?" she nods and waits for me to continue. "She was really nice, thought we were getting somewhere. Then poof! She kills that as well as she kills a demon. Bang! Gone, over. Can't stop at that though, can she? Oh no, has to tell me I'm nothing, I'm disgusting and soulless. Has to tell me she didn't even have to get over me."

"Oh, Spike," Tara takes my hand and cradles it in hers. "You're not nothing to me. I like you. You're not disgusting and who cares if you don't have a soul? There are humans who do terrible things and they have a soul, I think that's worse. I care, Spike, I really do."

"Me too."

Tara and I turn and Anya's holding the door, leaning against it and watching us.

"I eavesdropped," she says bluntly. "I wanted to say I care about you too, Spike. And not only because you have a pretty ass, but because you came after me, you and Tara. Like the knight in shining armour only with a battered old black car instead of a white steade. And… you don't mind when I mess up and stuff, you don't get mad at me all the time, except the other night. But even then you weren't mad. So, I like you. You are a very nice person," she says brightly, smiling widely at me. Then she reaches over and taps me heartily on the hand, quite the little ray of sunshine, ain't she? "This is very Oprah, isn't it?"

"Then let's stop the caring and sharing," I say gruffly, but even I was quite touched by her little speech.

Tara laughs and pulls me up.

"I think Dexter's Lab is on now," she says.

"What's with cartoonists and short characters?" Anya asks. "Is it a joke? Why don't they make jokes about tall people?"

"You can't tread on tall people," I tell her.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, Tara?"

"If you ever snap at me again, I might consider turning you into a toad," I know she's not being serious, but it's nice to know she can joke about something that could have upset her. Might have at one time, but not now, bint knows me too well.

"Leastways if you did that, I could watch you two lovely ladies in the bathtub. All hot and sweaty," I leer.

"Spike!" both girls groan.

* * *

Been quite the busy week at Chateau Scrappy. Had Harris in here three times and Willow walked Tara home every day except Wednesday when she had a Scooby meeting which she didn't think to invite Tara to. Dawn dropped by a few times, but her presence wasn't resented. Buffy didn't come round, didn't really expect her to, but didn't stop me hoping.

She must have thought her first threat didn't warrant another, 'cause Red was quite pleasant to me. Harris on the other hand was his usual charming self. Ignored me twice but the third time, Anya asked him – dunno if _asked_ is the right word though, more like an order from your commanding officer – never to come again and he decided it was _my _influence.

Huh, if I had _my_ way, I'd've told her to contact D'Hoffryn, get back on the vengeance train and curse him. Dick boils could be nice, fun to watch him squirm. Or never having another woman _ever_. Or there's the ever appealing sending him to a dimension where every male demon to ever grace this or any other dimension, has their wicked way with him for the rest of eternity. Only problem is that I won't get to watch that chubby little face of his contort as he writhes in agony. Ah, what a lovely visual, complete with sound.

So, it's been an eventful week. Well, for Glinda and Sunshine anyway.

I light a cigarette and walk slowly up the stairs. Coming down off my violence induced high, the gloops of blue goo that cover my duster seem unsightly and they stink to high heaven. Been a good night, two vampires and a big ugly demon. I open the door and despite the stinking crap on my jacket, I'm smiling. That is until I see Anya sobbing on the couch with Tara holding her, murmuring soft words of comfort.

"What happened?" I ask, dropping my axe and hurrying over to them. "Did Xander have another - " that's the moment I notice the blood seeping from Tara's temple. I'm an ignorant fuck, how could I not've smelt it? Stupid fuckin' high.

"My arm!" Anya wails. "It hurt my arm!"

"Tara," I start urgently. "What happened, tell me!"

"A-a d-demon," she stutters.

Ok, gonna have to calm 'em down before I can get anything coherent out of her. I go into the bathroom and get Band-Aids, disinfectant, tissues and bandages. I gently disentangle Anya from Tara and tilt Tara's head back. I disinfect the cut, trying not to let the heady scent of her blood distract me. Then I press a Band-Aid over it and turn to Anya. Her shirt's ruined; the sleeve ripped to shreds. Her hand is pressed to it and blood seeps between her fingers.

"C'mon, Sunshine," I mutter, prying her fingers from the wound. "Lemme see."

She looks at me.

"It hurts," she whimpers.

"I know," I answer and pull the sleeve. I inspect the wound; it's not too deep. I disinfect it and wrap it. I put the kettle on and leave it to boil while I get Anya a shirt from her room. I hand it to her and disappear into the kitchen to make two coffees and a mug of blood.

Anya's changed her shirt when I go back into the living room. She and Tara are curled on the couch and I hand them their coffees. I drop into a chair and lean forward.

"You two ok?" I ask.

"I-I think so," Tara says.

"Tell me," I prompt.

"I went to the magic shop," Tara says. "To get some things and I waited for Anya so we could walk home together. We were almost home when we were attacked. I only had a stake and he kinda… broke it. We tried to run but it caught us and it knocked me over which is when I cut my head. I heard Anya scream and I think that's when it cut you?" the last part is a question aimed at Anya who nods. "I knocked it over with a spell and grabbed Anya and we just ran. We didn't stop until we got home."

"It didn't chase you?" I ask.

"I think I knocked it out."

"I hate Sunnydale!" Anya says. "Why can't Buffy do her job?"

"She tries," Tara said. "But she…" she looks at me. Ah, yeah, recently she hasn't had any help. Well, not help that's at her side, but I've been out there doin' my bit.

"Would it make you feel better if I killed it?" I ask Anya.

"Yes," she nods. "But you'll have to find out what it is."

"Why?" I ask, the thrill of the thought of violence dulled by the idea of research.

"If ou don't know what it is," Anya points out. "You don't know how to kill it."

"Cut it's soddin' head off!" I cry.

"Not always," she shakes her head. "But don't worry, at the Magic Box we have a wide selection of books that you can look in. Come over tomorrow with Tara and she can help you look."

"And what will you be doing?" Tara asks.

"Minding the shop and making helpful comments," Anya beams, maybe the thought of money cheered her up? Don't ask me to fathom her mind.

"Fine," I relent.

"Then we can kill it," Anya nods.

"We?" I ask.

Anya folds her arms and pouts slightly.

"It ripped my shirt. This shirt was my favourite and it was expensive. He won't get away with it."

"Sure?" I ask. "This could probably rip more than your shirt..."

"But," Tara starts. "You'd need… back-up? Right?"

"I don't think so, pet," I snort.

"But if you end up dust, who's going to help us pay the rent?" she asks.

"Oh, thanks. Good to know you're only after my money and not my body," I mutter.

"Oh, she's not after your body, you have no breasts," Anya says. Gee, thanks Anya, I wondered why I was a bit flat up top. Oh no, she's talking again. "But we are coming."

"Since when did you take an interest in killing your demon chums?" I ask.

"Since they started ruining perfectly good clothes."

"She's got a point," Tara says, the blush that had reddened her cheeks when Anya mentioned my lack of breasts has faded a little. "And I've been thinking that maybe I should start helping out with the staking again."

"Why?" I ask. "You don't have to. You can live a normal life."

"I live with a vampire and an ex-demon and I'm a witch, I don't think killing evil will scar me for life."

"No," I tell them, standing up so I can do my Giles impression. "It's too dangerous. You stay here and clean my axe when I get in."

"What about the research?" Anya asks.

"You can do that."

Tara and Anya glance at each other.

"Ok," they say.

Should've been suspicious then, shouldn't I? I'm a right blind sod. I s'pose you saw it coming? Yeah, well, no need to gloat.


	10. Sunshine

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Ten: Sunshine  
**

"What the hell are you doin' here?" I practically scream at them.

They exchange glances and clutch their stakes as if they were their first born and about to be sacrificed to a big, lumpy demon.

"We're here to help," Tara tells me.

"Help with what?" I shout. "Bloody interior decorating?"

"No," Anya says. "Why would we want to do that? For one thing we're outside and I doubt the demons would appreciate it."

"Oh, I see," I fold my arms – hard when you're holding an axe – and glare at them. "Come out for a piece of the action, did ya?" I slip into game face and lunge at them threateningly. "There – action. Now off you go."

"We -" Tara starts but I wave her into silence.

"Well, that's rude," Anya mutters.

"Something out there," I hiss. "Stay put_. Don't_ move."

I push through some bushes, but it's not the Fraygon demon that attacked the girls the other night, (yes, I did do research. Stake me now). It's some two-bit vamp trollop. I lift my axe and swing it downwards as she runs past. Her head comes off and she's dust before she knows what hit her. Which was my axe, obviously.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Fan-bloody-tastic.

"Your job, Slayer," I return and start to walk away from her and her entourage.

"Is someone at your place?" Willow asks, looking, for some reason, worried.

"Why -"

"Spike? Spike, is it the Fraygon?"

Great, keeps getting better. Tara and Anya burst through the bushes like something out of some tacky Broadway stage show.

"No one's at your apartment?" the Slayer almost screeches.

"Not unless copies of us have manifested themselves there," Anya says. "Which, y'know, _could_ happen. Unlikely, but possible."

"But we left Dawn there!" Willow shrieks.

"_What?" _I yell.

"We didn't know you weren't in!" Xander splutters.

"What's she doing there?" I ask, ignoring the whelp, who's till looking underfed, good to know they help each other out.

"We all decided to patrol," Buffy says. "So we took Dawn to your place, but this big demon turned up outside and we told her to go in and go straight to your apartment."

"And you didn't check when you'd done the demon in?" I asked incredulously.

"We were chased for five blocks!"

"You let it _chase_ you? Anya asks, then mutters to Tara, "The girl's slipping."

"It was a civilian area, Ahn," Xander explains. "Didn't want anyone getting caught up in the crossfire."

"Shame you didn't," Anya snaps. "And don't call me 'Ahn'!"

"The demon that chased you," Tara cuts in. "Was he blue with a black beard and dressed in normal clothes?"

"Yes," Willow says. "You haven't had trouble with him, have you?" she notices the half-healed cut on Tara's temple. "Did he do that?"

"No, no," Tara shakes her head then looks at me and Anya. "It was Franco. Maybe we should tell him to wear a hat to hide the horns... Oh, no! You didn't _kill_ him?"

"No, he got away when this vamp gang came along. Wait, you _know_ him?" Buffy asks.

"He's our neighbour," Anya tells her.

"Yeah," I nod. "Now I'm goin' to get the L'il Bit."

"I'll go," Buffy snaps.

"She might be a little upset that you left her," Tara says and at the look on Buffy's face, she amends with. "Not that you m-meant to or anything. But she c-could stay the night with us, we'd make sure she was a-all right and there's no school t-tomorrow."

Buffy's about to protest when Red lays her hand on the Slayer's shoulder.

"Maybe she'll need some away time," she says quietly.

"Fine," Buffy huffs and stalks off.

Seems to do a lot of that. Wonder if she knows it makes her look weird from behind?

* * *

"Where is she?" Anya asks as we stare at the place the Niblet should have been – in front of our front door.

"Maybe she went looking for us, or Buffy?" Tara suggests.

"Out there?" I ask, waving in the vague direction of the world outside. I feel a surge of panic. Niblet. Out there. _Alone._ I really want to hurt something, like, I don't know, Buffy? Xander? Willow?

"Ok," Tara says, struggling to remain calm. "We'll ask around, see if anyone here has seen her."

"Oh yeah," I snort. "Because they're gonna turn 'round and say, 'Yep, got your girl all bound and gagged in the kitchen cupboard, hang about, I'll just go get her for you.' I don't think so, pet."

"Stop being snobby, Spike," Anya tells me. "Now go knock on the doors."

Well, what other option do I have? So I knock on the door opposite us: Clem.

"Clem, mate," I say, yeah, maybe I should've said 'hello' but I got bigger things to think about, lost little Slayer's sisters for one. Which, come to think of it, is actually quite small in size. The girl, not her being missing. God, how heartless d'ya think I am?

"Hi," he waves.

"You haven't seen the Slayer's sis, have you?"

"Yeah," he says with what I s'pose passes for a grin.

"Where?" I ask.

He pushes the door back and there's Bit, curled on the couch with a bowl of Cheetos, a TV remote and a smile.

"Dawn?" Tara gasps and pushes past me and Clem into the apartment. "Dawnie," she hugs Dawn tightly and suddenly Dawn doesn't seem all smiley, now she looks scared and lost.

"You found her?" Anya asks, peering over my shoulder.

"Yeah," I tell her in a low voice. "Oi, Platelet?"

She looks up and, for a second, looks mad, like it's _my _fault her sister dumped her here, just assuming that us three don't have lives, assuming we live to do her bidding. Then she smiles and pulls away from Tara.

"Hey, Spike," she says. "You came back, I was beginning to think I'd be stuck here all night," she glances at Clem. "No offence."

"None taken," he shrugs pleasantly. Saggy skin and bad wrinkles or no saggy skin and bad wrinkles, right then I wanted to kiss him for keeping Dawn safe. Didn't though, quashed that thought soon as it reared it's ugly, floppy skinned head.

"Want to stay the night?" I ask.

"Really? With you guys?" she asks excitedly. "Cool."

So I we go back to Chateau Scrappy. Well, they went, I hung around to have a word with Clem.

"Thanks," I tell him gruffly.

"For what?" he asks, shovelling Cheetos into his gob.

"Looking after L'il Bit for me."

"Yeah, well, couldn't leave her out in the cold. Humans are fragile."

That they are, unless they're Slayer's o'course, then you can bang 'em and – sorry, lost track there.

"'Bye then," I say.

"You gonna be at poker tomorrow?" he asks.

I glance across the hall, through the open door of my place and I see Anya, Tara and Dawn sitting on the couch, laughing.

"Don't think so, mate," I tell him, still looking at my girls. "Think I'll stay in."

* * *

Never thought I'd enjoy the company of a bunch of women. Not that I've never enjoyed the company of a woman before, I mean – Dru, Harmony, Buffy! But the company of three women with no sex and just… _fun?_ Things have been getting complicated lately.

The night we had to get home and find Dawn, that was a week ago now. Tara called Buffy so she wouldn't worry and we had a good night in. Bit's taken to coming over every day after school and Tara arranged that she stays every Friday night to give Buffy a break. Not that it's Buffy that's needs the break, bet the bint's hell to live with.

The last couple of days, I've been wishing for the old times. Not because they were any better than now, 'cause I think I'm doin' all right, but 'cause they were less complicated. See, when I was with Dru, it was simple: I loved Dru, she loved me, we killed and I wanted the Slayer dead. See? Now _that's_ an easy to remember code of vampire conduct, didn't need a notebook to jot down all the rule changes then, did I?

Then, when I fell for the Slayer, it was _still_ simple: I loved the Slayer, I shouldn't love the Slayer, she hated me and I wanted her. It all got complicated when she got in my pants and then said it was wrong. Only so much a guy can take and there's only a little more that a vampire can take. That little more came when I realised that I don't want Buffy anymore. Well, I _do_ but I want her to want _me._ I want her to come to me and say she wants me, to tell her friends and stuff, 'til I get that, I don't want anything. All or nothing from now on, sweetheart.

I s'pose you want to know how I came to this _'epiphany'? _Well, to tell you the truth, it was when I was looking at L'il Miss Sunshine…


	11. Epiphany

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Eleven: Epiphany  
**

S'ppose you want to know what I meant by reaching my _'epiphany'_ when I looked at L'il Miss Sunshine, a.k.a Ex-Vengeance Demon Anyanka, a.k.a _Anya?_

Don't go getting your knickers in a twist, I didn't look at the bint and fall arse over tit in love with 'er. I just… Oh, see for yourself…

"Get out! Get _out!_ _Get out!"_ with each word that was screeched directly into my ear, I was hit on the head and shoulders with a loofah while Anya clutched a towel to her chest.

S'ppose you guessed what happened, right? Yeah, I walked in on her in the bathroom – not my fault! Daft bint didn't lock the door and I didn't know she was home! So, while I was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of blood and wincing at my loofah burns, Anya walked in. She looked… different. Her hair was tugged into two damp plaits and she was wearing one of _my _shirts – though, I let that slide, bein' the charitable guy I am – and a pair of sweat pants. I didn't even know the woman_ owned_ sweat pants! And she didn't have that constant perky look on her face, y'know, the one that makes you smile through the doom and gloom just by lookin' at it?

"What's up with you?" I asked, rubbing my jaw where she hit me.

"Nothing," she answered.

I glanced at the cat clock on the wall and realised that the shop shouldn't've been closed. I don't think she'd've shut up early or called upon a Scoob to guard her money without something major havin' gone done – not a apocalypse or anything, just a world wide bunny invasion, so somethin' was most definitely up.

"Why are you home then, love?" I asked. "Shop's not s'pposed to be shut yet and here you are, in a place that isn't the magic shop."

"I didn't feel well," she said.

I reached out to feel her forehead; she flinched and stared at me, but didn't pull away. She was all right, no fever or anything and she, y'know, _smelled_ healthy enough.

"Let's try again; what's up, Sunshine?"

She didn't answer, just stood up to get her bag. Her mouth was of the definite southward curl as she handed me the bundle. I frowned, but took it as an invitation to be nosy. I pulled it apart and found it was an orange hat and matching scarf and a –

"Bloody hell," I muttered as I stared at the photo in the brown frame. It was a picture of Anya and Xander with their arms around each other, grinning.

"Xander said I forgot some of my stuff and he gave me that," she whispered and pointed to the pile.

"What an arsehole," I breathed, only, not literally _breathed_, 'cause I don't. So I sort of exhaled. "What're you gonna do, pet?"

"Do?" she blinked, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Ask him what the fuck he thinks he's playing at?" I burst out.

I wanted to murder him at that moment. When I looked at her and didn't see the little ray of sunshine I'd grown to like and care 'bout, but saw a rain cloud. Her face wasn't made to look so sad. He _broke_ her. God, if I didn't have this chip, I'd string him up and show Angelus a thing or two about torture.

"Right," I said, grabbing my jacket and shrugging it on. "You go and watch the TV, I think Tara's got some chick flicks," I opened the fridge and tossed her the large bar of chocolate. "Eat that, I'll be back later."

"Where're you going?" she asked, rising and gripping the chocolate.

"Where'd ya think?" I asked, my hand on the door handle.

"Xander?" she asked and I nodded. I waited for her to tell me no, insist that I do nothing.

But instead she shrugged. She wandered into the living room and I watched, frowning, as she went through one of the cupboards by the telly and produced _Steel Magnolias_. She settled down on the couch, tugging a blanket around her feet.

"Have a nice time, Spike," was all she said.

* * *

Oh, and I did. Not with Xander, though, but I'll come to that later. But I did find the Fraygon demon, in one of the tunnels. Had grabbed the sword that I keep by the door on my way out. I was wandering along the tunnels towards the magic shop and up it popped. Had a nice coupla rounds with him, got a hole in my gut for my troubles, but it was fun. Ran him through with my sword for Tara and loped his head off for Anya.

Had a right good time and had calmed down a little before going to see the whelp. He was leaning against the counter in the shop when I came in, listening to something Red was saying while Buffy played with a stake – not listening, probably thinking 'bout my big di – duster, she wants it, I'm tellin' you. Dawn looked up from what I guessed was homework and grinned at me as I rested my sword on the counter behind Harris.

"Hey, Spike," she said.

"Spike?" Red leapt up. "Is it Tara? Oh, God, what happened?"

I pushed past her and stalked up to Xander, who, I'm pleased to say, paled a little.

"Nothin' wrong with Tara, Will," I said, not looking at her. "But something's very wrong with Anya."

"Anya?" Xander squeaked, very manly. "What have you done to her?"

"Gave her chocolate and a movie, what'd you give her?"

"Wha -"

"Oh, that's right," I folded my arms and glared at him. "Her stuff and a photo of the two of you together."

"Xander?" Willow said quietly. "You gave her a picture of the two of you?"

"Well, that's insensitive," Dawn muttered.

"Dawn!" Buffy snapped.

"It her photo frame!" Xander protests.

"Yeah?" I dug in my pocket and produced the crumpled photo I'd taken from the frame before I left. "But it's your photo, so here you go, she's keeping the frame."

"What is this?" Xander asked, pushing me back and snatching the photo. "When did you start getting all protective towards Anya -" and then, for some reason, the whelp started laughing. "Oh, God, this is even funnier than with Buffy!"

He practically doubled up and cackled like an idiot.

"You _told_ him?" Buffy hissed.

"No," I answered. "What you laughing at, Harris?"

"You," he choked. "You thought you had a chance with Buffy? You've got even less of a chance with Anya!"

And where in the hell did that come from? I _do not _fancy Anyanka!

"Oh yeah?" I decide to play it cool. Upset Xander and make Buffy jealous. Ever heard the saying, "killing two birds with one stone"? I came closer to him and smirked. "What makes you think I haven't had that chance several times already?"

Xander gaped at me and swung, but I saw it coming and ducked. But what I didn't see was his hands grab my shoulders and propel me backwards into the table.

"You haven't touched her," he said in a low and probably what he thought was a threatening voice. "She won't ever let you touch her. _Ever._"

"Why's that then?" I pushed him back and straightened up. "Why wouldn't she want to put her hands on my sexy body?" I glanced at Buffy. "Many have tried to resist, all have failed."

She looked disgusted – great new look for you, Slayer – but didn't say anything 'cause Harris was talking.

"She'll never touch you, Spike," he said. "Because not only are you disgusting and sick and an impotent little puppy, but she's in love with _me_ and she always will be. It will always be me for her, Spike, it will always be _me_."

And for some reason, I saw red. I didn't even think about the chip, I just hit. Hard. He reeled backwards, clutching his jaw. Willow and Buffy ran to him and Dawn was looking at me strangely as I clutched at my head.

"Get out, Spike," Buffy told me, helping Xander to his feet.

"Always me," Xander smirked – which is no where near as good as mine, I er, think – "She'll always want me and she'll always be in love with me."

I didn't answer, I just left. Grabbed my sword and walked out.

Then I got home and saw Tara and Anya watching the end of the movie. Anya looked at me, at the sword in my clenched fist and returned her gaze to the telly. Tara frowned a little at me but didn't say anything. I look over at the frame the photo of Anya and Xander was in. There was a Magic Box receipt in it.

"The first one I ever rang up," Anya said, seeing what my gaze rested on, an odd note of pride in her voice.

I grinned then and pulled off my duster. Gave my sword a quick wipe with the tea towel then had a shower. They were watching _Scream 2_ when I came back into the living room, so I settled down on the couch and swung my legs over the arm. Tara, who was sitting on the chair to the side, copied me and our feet batted playfully as we watched the movie. After a while, Anya leaned her head against me and I put my arm around her. Movie was good. Company was better.

So, what I meant by getting my epiphany when I looked at Anya, I meant that I knew what she felt and I didn't want to feel it anymore. Knew I needed to move on as much as she did. And I am, I'm moving on. Take a good look, mate, 'cause this is Spike, William the Bloody, moving on from the Slayer and all the pain that comes with her. This is me doin' better.


	12. Risk

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Twelve: Risk  
**

So, I moved on. A few days later – a late Friday afternoon if you want to be Watcherly precise – I walked into my kitchen after a bloody great kill – great that demons hang around in sewers in the day, nice to know I don't have to wait for it to get dark – and there's Tara and Dawn giggling over a coupla glasses of lemonade.

"Where's Anya?" I ask, grabbing a mug to fill with blood.

"She went out with her Vengeance demon friend Halfrek," Tara tells me.

"Oh," I shrug and put my blood in the microwave. "So, Bit, what you doin' here?"

"It's Friday night," she says like that explains everything.

"Yeah, I know," I say. "But I figured you weren't talkin' to me, what with the whole looking daggers at me the other night and neglectin' me the past coupla days."

"Looking daggers?" she asks. "That would be so cool if I could," she sees me looking at her weird. "Only, y'know, not. But I had homework and stuff and Buffy was kinda like, wanting to be with me all the time. She was all over the 'sisterly bonding'. It was very scary. And the whole you threatening Xander," she looks a little guilty as she says. "Well, he kinda deserved it."

"Always knew I liked you, Sweet Bit," I wrap an arm around her shoulders and give her a quick squeeze before I get my blood.

"Ew, Spike," Dawn groans, poking a patch of demon slime I left on her shoulder. "Demon yuck!"

"Hey," I protest. "Demon here!"

"Whatever," she rolls her eyes and turns back to Tara. "So anyway, Kirstie was all over Adam but he was like _'pur-lease' _and then he came over and asked if he could borrow _my _Chem notes. Kirstie was _so_ mad."

"Adam?" I ask. "Who the bloody hell's Adam?"

"A boy," Tara says. "A boy at Dawn's school."

Then they look at each other and giggle. There is no _way_ the little Bit is even _thinking_ about dating, the girl's only fifteen.

"Boys are evil," I tell her. "They try to get in your knickers, stay away from 'em."

"Does that mean I don't have to go to school?" Dawn asks. "'Cause I would be ok with that."

"No, that does not mean you don't go to school," Tara says sternly and frowns at me.

"I hear there's a decent girls school in Sunny D," I shrug and revel in Dawn's shocked face.

"No way," she says. "And if you even _think_ it, I'll tell Tara your little secret," she grins smugly when she says that.

What's she bloody talking about? What little secret? I don't have secrets! Spike the Open Book - that's me.

"Secret?" Tara glances at Dawn then me. "What secret is this, Spike?"

"I don't bloody know," I huff and sip my blood.

"Yes, you do," Dawn says. "Y'know, magic shop, Xander, great honking revelation. Ringing any bells?"

"Revelation?" I ask, genuinely confused. Then I get it. "Oh! Shut your mouth, Dawn Summers."

"Tell me, Spike," Tara says. "Go on, what secret? You know I won't stop asking until you tell me."

"I don't -"

"Spike's in love with Anya," Dawn blurts.

"Really?" Tara looks almost delighted as she turns and grins at me.

"_No!_" I practically screech.

"Then why did you hit Xander in the face when he said you were?" Dawn asks.

"Ok, one," I hold up a finger. "I didn't _hit_ Xander and – well, ok, I did, but it was more of a thump really," I take a minute to remember just how good his delicate human nose felt beneath my strong and incredibly sexy knuckles.

"Spike!" Dawn cries. "You're drooling! What're you thinking about?" then she frowns and makes her _'ick'_ face. "On second thoughts, no, don't tell me."

"What?" I ask. "Oh yeah, two," I hold up a second finger. "I hit his nose, not his face and three, he didn't _say_ I loved her, he _implied _that I was banging her. And I'm not, ask Tara."

"Well, I er… haven't _heard_ anything," Tara says, blushing a little.

"See?" I point at Tara. "And I'm very bloody vocal when I shag! And I'll bet Anyanka's a screamer, she looks like a screamer. Or maybe a screecher," I muse.

"Spike," Tara warns and casts a sidelong glance at Dawn.

"Forget I said that," I tell Dawn. "And don't tell big sis, unless you want to stop visiting."

"No!" Bit says quickly. "I just… I like coming here, it's nice to be around people who actually notice that I haven't reverted to a blob of green energy."

"They notice," Tara tells her. "They just try to protect you, that's all."

"I know," Dawn mumbles.

Then the phone rings. Dawn looks at it and I guess she thinks it's Buffy, telling her to come home, away from the evil thing that attacked her best friend. Tara answers it and looks at me. She lowers her voice and I get up.

"Goin' to have a shower," I tell Dawn. "See Anya when you came over?"

"No, and yes, I did come with Tara," she knows I always ask and I'm glad she came with her and wasn't wandering around pre-dusk on her own.

I look at the blinds that cover the kitchen window. The sun's still up, if Anya isn't home when I get out of the shower, I'll go get her. Hopefully she's hanging with that Halfrek chick in one of the _less_ dangerous demon frequented places.

Tara's grinning when I get out of the bathroom. I don't ask why, her business. She'll probably tell me later, despite moving in with Anya, she still talks to me a lot.

"Are you goin' to work tonight?" I ask her.

"Yeah," she answers. "I'll have to get going."

"I'll walk you, then I'll see if I can't find Anya. Come on, Bit, fresh air'll do you good."

Dawn rolls her eyes, but gets up and takes her coat off the hook by the door. I pick up the keys and shrug on my duster. I open the door and usher the ladies out. There, on the stairs, stands Anya, talking pleasantly with Clem.

"Spike!" Anya says brightly. "Tara, Dawn! How are you? You all look pleasantly healthy! Are you walking Tara to work, Spike?" she practically babbles.

"Uh, yeah," I say and frown.

"Dawnie," Anya grabs Dawn's hands. "I have mud packs! You don't have to go out, stay in and we can eat marshmallows and chocolate."

Dawn looks scared, and to be blunt – me too.

"Are you ok, Anya?" Tara asks.

"Fine!" she grins. "Absolutely perfect. You're going to be late and don't worry, I won't talk to Dawn about sex, it could damage her and I don't want to be sued by Buffy."

"I'll make sure they're ok," Clem offers.

And yet I don't feel safer, wonder why? I shrug and walk off down the stairs.

"Bye!" Anya calls cheerily and grabs Dawn's hand, dragging her back into the apartment.

Weird. But that's Sunshine for ya.

"So what's goin' on?" I ask finally.

We're about a block from the Espress Pump and I'm getting a little pissed off with Tara's sidelong glances and lip nibbling.

"What?" she asks, startled.

"It's about that phonecall, isn't it?" I guess and she jumps. "Just tell me," I sigh.

"The day before yesterday," she starts. "Willow and I went for coffee after one of our classes, we talked about… things."

"You two getting back together?" I ask.

"We talked about it," she says and suddenly seems to want to tell all. "I miss her Spike, I miss her so much. And it's going to take a lot of work to put it back together, but I think we can do it. I love her."

"I know," I answer quietly. "Aren't you happy though? With me and Anya?"

"Of course," she says sincerely. "Living with you two is the only thing that got me through the last few weeks. I want us to stay friends. I think this – us living together – has really helped us… bond? You two have been the best friends and I'll miss you. I want us to stay friends, I want to confide in you two and don't want that to change. Spike, I… I want to thank you. If you hadn't come to see me that night, I don't think I could have coped."

"That's all right, Glinda," I reach out and hug her, planting a kiss on her hair. "You and Red should work it out, you belong together. But if she screws up again, you're room's always there for you. Not that Red's _gonna_ screw up again, I just meant - "

"Thank you," she smiles and slips her arm through mine as we walk to the Espresso Pump.

"Bloody hell," I moan as the realisation hits me. "Now I'm stuck with Sunshine!"

* * *

"I think we're going to work it out."

I freeze by the door. I could handle losing Tara because I'd still have Anya and I don't think Red would mind if we hung out sometimes. But if Anya and Xander got back together, not only would I be all alone in this flat, it wouldn't be a home anymore. And Harris will forbid her to see me, no doubt about it.

"That's nice, Anya," I hear Dawn say. "But what about Spike?"

"What about him?"

"Don't you think he'll miss you?"

There's a silence and I can just picture her frowning in thought.

"He'd miss me?"

I clatter into the kitchen and make a lot of noise. I heat up some blood and look in the fridge for some food. I listen to them in the living room and hear the distinct sound of Dawn clambering onto the couch and Anya tucking her in. I peek around the door and watch as Anya smoothes her hair back and tugs her pillow straighter. Odd picture that: Niblet -who's always goin' on 'bout how she isn't a kid - letting the ex-Vengeance demon tuck her in, and who'd've thought Anya could be so… sweet? Then Anya pads towards the kitchen and I duck inside.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"I spoke to Xander today."

"That's nice," I say. "And you're tellin' me this because…?"

"Because I think there's a chance we're getting back together."

Suddenly it hit home, before I could pretend I'd misunderstood, but not now. She's said the words, told me that she's getting back with him. She just told me that she's leaving me. She tilts her head and studies me, chewing her lip a little. Why do women do that? Nibbling their lip like that? Makes you want to stop 'em. Downright irritating.

"What do you think I should do?" she asks quietly.

I turn around to face her and open my mouth to remind her how much he hurt her, how only Tara and I cared enough to come find her, how she cried in my arms, how I had a go at Xander for giving her that photo, how _I _was her knight in shining armour. But I don't.

"Can you live without him?" I ask.

"I don't know."

"Think 'bout it, Anya," I lean against the counter and she sits down, listening intently. "Do you think that - if you didn't get back with him now and you never got back with him - you'd regret it? _I_ know you still love him, _you_ know you still love him and I know how much you've probably tried not to, I know how hard it is to try and stop loving someone, but can you live without him? Can you live the rest of your life knowing you passed up the chance to be with the man you loved?"

She bows her head, "But what if it goes wrong again?"

"That's the other end of the scale, pet," I shrug and turn a chair around to sit down. "You could go back to him and in a few months or years, it could go wrong again. Could you take that chance? Do you think it's worth the risk?"

She's perfectly silent for a long time and I grab my mug of blood from the counter. Bloody hell, it's gotton cold. I put it in the microwave again and over it's whirring, I only just hear her speak.

"I think it is," she whispers.

"Then it's up to you from here on in," I say without turning around.

I hear her go and I sigh. I go to the kitchen door and lean against the doorframe. I just see her go into her room and shut the door. Then I go to check on Bit. She's snuggled into the couch, a small smile on her pretty little face. I stroke her hair gently and she sighs a little. I smile at her sleeping face, realised a long time ago I loved this little girl. Knew when I held her as she cried for her sister in my arms that I loved her, knew she loved me when she hugged me tight as I cried for the brave Slayer who had never loved me.

Then I go into my room. I throw what little belongings I have into my duffel bag. I think about taking my telly and stereo, but I figure Clem can get 'em for me sometime.

I've lost 'em. All of 'em. 'Cause if they leave, the Slayer ain't gonna let Niblet come 'round anymore. So, in losing Glinda and Sunshine, I lose Dawn. I can't handle that. Losing everything I thought I had earnt. I go into the kitchen and scrawl a note on the bright, lime green memo pad stuck on the side of the fridge.

Then I leave. Quietly, with only one last glance at Dawn and the two closed doors of Anya and Tara's rooms, I walk out.

The only evidence I was ever there, ever lived in that apartment is the still unmade bed in my room, the mug of blood still in the microwave and the note on the fridge. Think that note sums everything up.

_Bye._


	13. Alcohol Shares

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Thirteen: Alcohol Shares  
**

Y'know, I think pain and misery was created to up the sales of alcohol. Think about it, how often do you see someone happy gettin' drunk alone? You never see anyone drowning their happies, do you?

I lean back in the backseat of my trusty DeSoto – only thing in my life that's stood by me. Only one I can trust. I gulp back the last of the whiskey and toss the bottle out the half open window. I reach for the next bottle. Bugger. None left. Ah, well. I clamber out of the car and sway a little. Got to love the way it feels to be stone cold pissed. Everything floats away, no matter how much you rant about how crappy your life is, you can't seem to really give a damn. Just what I need right now; to not give a damn. Hopefully I'll be three, or maybe four, sheets to the wind by sunrise. Only need a few more bottles of Jack Daniel's to get there. Shouldn't be too hard to find a decent amount of alcohol, this is LA after all.

Haven't got a clue why I came here. Why does everyone come to LA? Buffy came here after she sent Soul Boy to hell. Know I weren't there, but I got the whole story from Anya who got it from Xander while he – yeah, well, you don't need to hear that, and to be perfectly honest, I don't want to think 'bout it. And then, the great Poof came here to set up his own little business. Three cheers for the entrepreneur.

Huh. Now here I am. Apparently, LA is where all the lost souls come, if I had a soul that would probably mean something to me, otherwise, it's just another reason to hate this world. To think I decided to save it, decided to work with the Slayer to kick Angelus into touch and prevent this steaming pile of Fyarl demon crap being sucked into a place where demons were the top dogs and humans were trampled underfoot in the rush to torture 'em.

Now, I'm not one for torture, never really saw the point of it, 'less I was after some info out of 'em or they had upset me. I remember a time when I tortured this vampire for two weeks for callin' Dru a "nutty tart." Those were the days. Never really got off on it though, the screams were s'pposed to do it for me – they did for Drusilla, she kept tellin' me to make the "walls hum with the pretty red music" – the screams just got on my nerves, that's why I finished him off. Dru sulked, but she got over it.

That's the problem with gettin' drunk, you forget what you were talkin' 'bout. Where was I? Oh yeah, I hate this world. Hate it 'cause it's stupid and has dumb little humans, sunrise and crap telly pop shows. Mainly I hate it 'cause you have to have a soul to be worthwhile. Did it ever cross the Slayer's mind that I was better than Angel? 'Course not! Spike don't have a soul, Angel does. Never mind that Angel went off on one and tried to kill 'er and 'er friends. Ok, so I tried to do her in and all, but then I fell in love with her. And no one can say I didn't help her, tried to look after the Bit and I fucked up royally. But I did _try_. Would Angelus do that? No.

I wander along the street and find a nice little bar. Company along with the beer might drown out all the internal ranting I've got goin' on. So I order me up a nice cocktail and slouch on the stool and sip it. It's disgustin' and I much rather a beer or whiskey, but if this'll get me drunk enough to forget that Tara and Anya were about to leave me, I'll hold mynose and swallow. Worst thing is I miss 'em and I can't hate 'em for walking away. I mean, they've got a chance to be with the people they love and I know that if Buffy had come to me and said she wanted me, _all_ of me, I'd go too. Don't blame 'em at all. It's not fair though, I treasured those two far more than Red and Harris ever did and yet they waltz off back into the arms of the people they ran away from. Still, can't blame 'em for wanting to be happy.

I'm starving so I get up, slam a bill on the counter and go back to the car to get one of the bags of blood I'd shoved in my bag as I walked past the fridge. Once I've downed that, I feel a little better. I think about goin' back to the bar, but I want good alcohol, not a sex on the bleedin' beach. There must be a 24 hour store somewhere in this bloody town. I slam the door of my car a little too hard and I sway back. Then I shove my hands in my pockets and stalk down the street to the glowing beacon of a 24 hour store. Get some whiskey and maybe some food. I glance up at the sky, noting the clouded appearance of the black sky. I shrug; least if it rains, I'll know it can't get any worse.

* * *

"_Spike?_"

Had to say it, didn't I? Had to say it couldn't get any worse if it rained. I glance through the window of the shop. It's raining and yet here it is, the day, my entire life, gettin' worse by the second. I scowl at the very much altered version of Cordelia Chase. I'm not even sure if that's her, I mean, I remember a very different girl. Vain and confident, this one was a little different, shorter hair for one. There's a girl beside her, long brown hair. She smiles shyly, remindin' me of Tara. She must think I'm an old friend of Cordelia's.

"Cordelia?" I ask, wondering if my voice is slurred.

"Yeah," she says and the gap between her eyebrows creases slightly. She sounds like her name is immaterial compared to me bein' here. "What are you - "

"Cordy? What about the – Spike?"

Oh fantastic. There he stands in all his brooding glory, clutching a bag of Oreo cookies like his unlife depends on it. Turned into quite the little domestic, ain't he? And they say _I'm_ housebroken?

"Peaches," I smirk. "Long time, no see. Missed me?"

"No," he says and frowns. "What are you doing here?"

"Tryin' to get pissed in peace," I shrug. "Still saving people?"

"Yes," he answers. "Cordy, Fred, why don't you go back to the hotel? Wes and Gunn are probably wondering where you are."

"Angel -"

"Cordelia," he cuts in, not looking at me. "I'll deal with this."

Cordelia looks at the both of us, then takes the other girl – who I assume is Fred – and walks out of the shop. As they pass, Fred smiles at me.

"It was nice to meet you," she says.

"Uh, yeah," I say and watch them leave. "So, still keepin' your pet humans? When you gonna give into your instincts an' eat 'em?"

"They're my friends," he tells me, placing the cookies on the shelf by the cereal – shock, horror, must be the most bad ass thing Soul Boy's done since goin' psycho in Sunny D.

"You can't be friends with humans," I tell him bitterly.

I don't know why, but his expression softens a little. He looks… _sorry_ for me. I'll teach him to feel soddin' sorry for me!

"Why are you here, Spike?" he asks, a little gentler this time.

"None of your bloody business," I retort, fists clenching at my sides.

"Have you still got the chip?" he asks.

"Bugger off," I mutter and search the shelves for a decent sized bottle of the demon drink I could shove in my pocket.

"Where are you staying?" he asks, following me up the aisle.

"As far away from you as I can get," I tell him.

"What happened in Sunnydale?" he seems to pale a little, if a vampire can. "Is it Buffy? Has anything happened -"

"Nothin's wrong with the Slayer," I answer. "So don't go off in a sulk."

"I don't know why I'm trying to help you," he mutters.

"Help me?" I whirl around. "I didn't ask for help, Peaches. So, bugger off and let me drink in peace."

"Fine," he snaps. "Do what you want, but if you try to hurt anyone, I'll dust you before you can blink."

"Like to see you try," I smirk and he grabs the lapels of my duster, pushing me up against the pasta.

"No, you don't," he says and pushes me back harder into the shelf as he lets go and walks out of the shop.

Wanker. Have I mentioned I hate this world?


	14. LaLa Land

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Fourteen: La-La Land  
**

Mmmm. Nice table, good table, all comfy. I reach blindly for the bottle in front of me. My fingers skim it and I drag it along the bar towards me. I tilt it and pour it into my mouth, only spilling a little in my eyes. Haven't thought about Glinda and Sunshine for the past hour or four. Oh bugger, just have. Oh wow, what's that? There's something green and white bobbing in front of me. I lash out weakly with my arm, forgetting I had it under my head. My forehead connects with the bar top and I groan. Oh, bloody hell. I hear a low muttering, but I'm too busy tryin' not to toss my cookies – oh, Angelus with cookies, image to treasure – so I don't hear 'em properly. I rest my forehead flat against the bar and my nose squashes a little. I feel hands under my arms, yanking me up and dragging me backwards off my stool.

"Get the fffuckin' 'ell offf me," I protest, thrashing wildly about.

Whoever it is doesn't answer, just drags me across the floor and up the steps.

"Oh, you can't do that to him. People are bound to wonder what you're doing if you move him like that, " I hear a distinctly English voice sigh, then feel hands close around my ankles and lift them so they aren't trailing along the floor anymore.

I struggle to focus on the figure that bobs in and out of my vision above my head. Brooding profile, tortured brown eyes and poncy gelled hair. Oh, buggerin', soddin', bloody hell.

"Get off me!" I shout and kick my legs.

I feel my foot connect with a jaw and a jolt of pain through my head that causes my hands to fly to my skull and my back to arch violently. I hardly feel my feet drop to the floor with a thump.

"Ow!" I hear that English voice cry. "He kicked me! Bloody hell!"

I hear Angel's sigh, the type of sigh that says "However much I don't want to, I have to do this 'cause I'm the hero." Go ahead and blow your trumpet, you poof. Then the world swirls sickeningly and shapes fade and focus. Then I get a view of the wide expanse of black leather and heels appear clicking in and out of my view. Hands hold my calves so I don't tumble from the height I'm hung from. Bloody hell, I'm over the poof's shoulder. I hear the English voice protesting and I can picture Angel's features set in hard lines.

"Put me down, you wanker," I say, and pummel his back with my fists.

Then I see the posh flooring of the inside of some place. The world whirls again as I am tossed onto a green couch. I think about struggling up, but this is too comfortable. Maybe just forty winks.

* * *

"We helped your friend Harmony, remember?"

Harmony? Harmony's here? Oh, God, no. And that's Peaches voice. Angel _and_ Harm? What have I done to deserve this? Ok, _apart_ from being a vicious killer for over a hundred years. And why do I feel like I'm being watched and what is that smell?

"Yeah, but she was a ditz and even she turned on us! He's like a total psycho! Remember he _tortured _you?"

"He has a chip, Cordy," I hear Angel say. "Remember? You were there at the… funeral. You saw. So did you, Wes."

"I know, but what's he doing here? What if he doesn't have the chip anymore?" her voice is gentler and I wonder what funer – oh. Buffy's.

Yeah, she was there and so was Angel and that weedy guy with glasses.

"Hello, Spike," Cordelia had said.

I merely grunted in return, then I saw the hand and I lifted my head to look up into a face that was torn apart by grief. They'd had the funeral at night so no one would know she was gone and so Angel could come. Don't think they thought about me coming. I didn't want to fight him, not there, not then, so I just reached out and shook his hand. I thought he understood what I felt more than anyone, even if he couldn't understand why I felt it.

"I'm sorry, Dawn," Angel had said and reached out to pull her into a hug. I had my arm around her shoulders, but when he reached for her, she pulled away from me. She wrapped her arms around him. I guessed she thought that if he had been there that night, we wouldn't've been there that night by an open grave, he would have saved her when I couldn't.

"Yes, Dawn, we're very sorry," it was an English voice that I didn't recognise that came from a tall man with brown hair and glasses. He looked saddened and I wanted to ask how he knew her but it seemed inappropriate, as inappropriate as being drunk at her funeral is, which was the only reason – besides trying not to upset Bit – that I was sober that night. And I remember thinking that the only reason Cordelia, Angel and all the other Scoobies were being nice to me was out of respect for the dead.

"Thank you, Wesley," Dawn said quietly as she pulled away from Angel. She returned to my arms and I stroked her hair as Xander stood beside me and rubbed her back gently to reassure her.

"Who're you?" I asked the Englishman.

"Wesley Wyndhym-Pryce," he said and offered his hand, I shook it, wondering how he would've acted when confronted with the infamous William the Bloody if he hadn't been at a funeral. "I was Buffy's Watcher for a while. She was a good Slayer… and a lovely person..."

Hate being hungover. Don't seem to have any control over my memories and I always end up with the ones about that night, that tower, that summer afterwards, that funeral and that grief.

"Cordelia has got a point, Angel. If we can be sure he's no threat," I hear the Englishman say. "Then I have no objection to him staying here. You had better call them, but shouldn't we check if he's safe?"

I open my eyes and notice Wesley glance at the shy brown haired girl – Fred? – as he says that last part.

"How?" Angel asks.

"He looks harmless enough," Fred says and leans over me. "You think we should get him something?"

Harmless? I'll show 'em harmless. I roll over and suddenly there's only air beneath me and I cold tiled floor comes up to meet me.

"Bloody hell," I mutter as I press my hands into the floor and push myself up onto my knees. Then I reach for the side of the round couch thing I just fell off, to haul myself to my feet. I sway a little and Angel grabs my elbow. I yank it away and whack him around the head.

"I'm thinking that whatever this chip is, it's gone," a black guy says and I see him reach for a stake that's tucked in his waistband.

"No," Angel says, punching me in the face so hard I fall backwards on my arse onto the couch thing. "He could always hit demons. C'mere, Gunn."

The black man saunters forward and stands before me.

"Spike," Angel taps the side of my face. "Hit him, go on."

"Er, Angel," Gunn says. "You never mentioned that, man."

"It's the only way to find out if it still works," Angel says, still tapping my face.

"Get off!" I protest and push his hand away. "I'm goin'."

"No, you're not," Angel says, holding my shoulders so I can't get up. "Hit Gunn."

"Don't want to," I say.

"Provoke him Gunn," Angel says, stepping back.

"How?"

"Hit him," Angel shrugs.

Gunn answers with a shrug of his own and a thump to my face. I react and my arm snaps out to connect with his jaw. He reels back and I clutch my hand as I am punished by that bastard chip.

"I think we can safely say he's got the chip," Gunn mutters.

"Could've just asked," I say. "And I kicked him and it hurt," I point to the dark purple bruise on Wesley's jaw.

"Ah, yes," he says. "It did hurt him."

"Here," a mug of warm blood is pressed into my hands and I look up at that pretty girl. Didn't realise she'd been gone while the boxing match went on.

"Thanks," I tell her.

"Fred, that's mine," Angel protests.

"You've had some already," she says. "He looked hungry. Is he going to stay?"

"No," I answer and get up, slurping the last of the blood.

"Yes," Angel says, looking at Gunn, Wesley and Cordelia. "He does have the chip, and we do have a job to do."

"Fine," Cordelia says. "I suppose he _is_ helpless."

"Am not!" I protest.

"And as long as he isn't a threat," Wesley says mildly and goes back to the counter, where he picks up a book. "I'll be in my office."

"Should we call them?" Gunn asks.

"Who?" I ask.

"Could we have some privacy?" Angel asks them.

"Oh, this is family moment, right?" Cordelia says and takes Fred's arm, looks at Gunn and off they toddle.

"Family?" I hear Fred ask.

"Spike," Angel says, pushing me into the seat again and sitting beside me. "We had a call - "

There's a cry and I look up sharply. A baby? I look at Angel incredulously and he fidgets uncomfortably.

"Connor, my son," he explains as he runs towards the stairs and after the sound.

Oh. So that's what that smell was.

* * *

It's very surreal; I'm tellin' you. Angel cradling this little baby, cooing to it occasionally while he talks to me. Who'd've thought that Darla the Bitch Queen from Hell would dust herself for something that she once referred to as _"chocolate." _She always had a thing about babies, I remember Angelus would bring her one – or two, depending on how pissed off she was – if he had upset her, it was the only way to get back into her good books. Things she did to 'em made even _me_ shudder, and she gave her unlife for a baby? That just makes it even more serene, it could only happen to Angel. Funny lookin' li'l thing, but look at it's dad.

"So, before you ran off to play the doting father, you said you had a call," I say.

"Yes, from Sunnydale," he says, staring intently at his child.

I stiffen in my seat. Oh, no. Something's happened. It can't be the Slayer; otherwise, Angel'd be ripping his shirt in anguish. It must be Tara… Or Anya. But then why would they call Angel? He only met 'em a coupla times, not like he'd care if anything happened to 'em. Unlike me.

"So?" I prompt.

"It was from Tara," he says and finally looks at me.

"Oh," I answer quietly.

"Did you sleep with Buffy?" he asks suddenly. His voice sounds calm but his jaw clenches and his fingers bunch in the loose folds of the kid's blanket.

I wonder why he has to ask, all he has to do is take a good long sniff. Then I realise I've hardly been near the Slayer in weeks, let alone _touched_ her. If I smell of anyone, it's Glinda, Sunshine and Bit. Not to mention all that alcohol.

"Why do you ask?" I answer quietly.

"Because Anya said you had slept with her."

"Huh," I snort. "Knew I couldn't trust her," but even as I say it, I know it isn't true.

"Tara called but Anya asked if it was possible for a vampire to be killed by too many orgasms, when I asked what she meant, she said she thought you'd gone off with Buffy."

"Then why'd they ring you?"

"Just in case you hadn't and I saw you in LA. Did you? Did you sleep with Buffy?"

"No," I answer truthfully. "I didn't _sleep_ with her. I shagged her, I screwed her, fucked her and had sex with her, but I never slept with her. Only time we ever slept was when she was too exhausted to move, rest of the time she got out the bed before she could catch her breath. Didn't mean anything to her, so don't worry, you haven't been replaced," I sigh and mumble/ "And you never will."

"How did it start?" he whispers and I can almost hear his teeth grinding together.

"Does it matter?" I ask. "All you need to know is we never _made love_, no matter how much I wanted to, it was always just sex. She hurt me, I hurt her. It's over, end of."

"I can't believe she'd sleep with you," he murmurs. "Cordy!"

Cordelia bustles into the foyer with a wide, false grin.

"Yes?"

"Take Connor," he hands her the baby and she frowns at us before making those sickening baby noises as she walks away.

"She'll retard it, doin' that," I tell him.

"Shut up, Spike," he says. "Is that why you're here? Because you and Buffy broke up?"

"Me and Buffy never broke up," I answer. "We had sex, then we stopped. And no, it has nothing to do with that. Didn't they tell you when they called?"

"They said they didn't know."

I don't want to tell him, he's not Tara, he won't give me any advice or listen as well as she does. And he isn't Anya, who can cheer you up with just one glance at her and a few happy words that you know are true.

But for some reason, I spill the whole sorry tale.

Huh, must still be drunk.


	15. Speed Limits

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Fifteen: Speed Limits  
**

Author's Note: Just to let you know that the A.I team are currently living in the No Man's Land after the episode _Dad_.

* * *

"You had Dru," he offers, the guy's really reaching now and has been for the last week or so that I've been here, refusing to go back. "You had her for a hundred years."

"No, I didn't," I sigh, voicing this admission for the very first time. I've never allowed myself to think it, but I know it, I always knew it and now here I am, telling _him_.

"What do you mean?" he twists around to look at me properly.

"I mean that, maybe I did love her for a hundred years, maybe she did love me back, maybe we did sleep together, maybe I did anything for her because I loved her so much, but she was never mine. She was always yours."

He stiffens slightly and lowers his eyes in remorse.

"I'm sorry, Spike, I know how much you -"

"No, you didn't," I answer. "You never knew how much I loved her. When you saw us together when you didn't have a soul, you just thought it was stupid, that I was never a proper demon for caring for her. When you saw us together when you had a soul, you just saw it as twisted and wrong," I shrug. "Maybe it was, but it never felt like it was. I may have had her body and the sane and insane parts of her mind, but I never had her heart. She was always just waiting for her Daddy to come for her. Her face when you walked in and the Judge couldn't burn you…. I've never seen her so happy."

"But you treated her better than I ever did."

"Didn't make any difference though, did it? I hate you, y'know? You get everything. You were the worst demon to ever walk the earth. I killed Slayers, but nobody feared me more than they feared you. You had Drusilla, you had Buffy, and now you've got a kid. And you've got friends, you've only got 'em 'cause you've got a soul and it's not bloody fair. You have everything I want – 'cept for the kid – irritating, y'know?"

"I don't have Dawn," he says. "You've got her, she loves you."

"Yeah," I say sarcastically. "She really loves the soulless vampire."

"She does," he repeats. "You're the one she runs to, you're the one she wanted to hold her at the… funeral, not me, not Xander or Willow – you. And I could hear her in the background when Tara called, she sounded worried."

I feel guilty. Didn't think anyone'd miss me. Just never occurred to me for some reason.

"And Tara and Anya," he continues. "You've got them."

"They were goin' to leave me," I say quietly. "That's why I left, because if they left, I'd lose 'em, no matter how often they came to see me. And if I lost them, I'd lose Dawn. Didn't want that."

"But you've still lost them by running away."

"I didn't _run away,_ I left, there's a difference. Wanted them to be happy, I've served my purpose."

"You only left because of them, not because of Buffy?"

"I - " then I think about it. The whole time I packed my bag and walked out of the building, the whole time I was driving, drinking and getting drunk, Buffy never crossed my mind, all I could think of was Tara and Anya. "I didn't even think of Buffy," I admit.

"Are you over her?"

"I don't think I ever will be, but I can live – unlive, without her. But I really miss them, Tara and Anya."

"You should know…"

"What?"

"Anya told me to tell you – if I saw you – that she wasn't going to get back with Xander. She made her choice."

When the words register, my heart soars. I haven't lost her. I lost Tara, but I haven't lost Anya. Suddenly I want to be on the move, I want to leap up and run back to Sunnydale, grab Anya and hold her tightly, so she'll never think of leaving again. But I resist the urge; I twist my hands in my lap and stare intently at the floor.

"I recognise that look," Angel smiles.

"What look?"

"The look that says you want to go back and tell her you want her."

"Huh? Want her? We're just friends! If I've got a crush on anyone, it's Tara!"

"That wasn't a crush," he shakes his head. "That was friendship. She was nice to you, friendly and you wanted to make sure you could keep it, that was why you thought you were attracted to her."

I stare at him. He… He hit the nail on the head. How did he do that? How did he know it when I didn't? Bloody hell.

But he is right. I wanted to hold that friendship and make sure it could never leave me, but if I had tried for a kiss, I would've probably crushed it. And I probably knew that, deep down, that's why I didn't touch her. She can still be my friend, I can still have her around, I don't think Red'll stop her.

But I want to know why Anya decided not to give her relationship with Xander another chance. What could make her decide that she could live without him? What made her realise that she wouldn't regret it if they got back together? What made her realise that she'd regret it if she got back with him? Because she still loves him, doesn't she? So what could've happened to make her stop _wanting_ him? She told me thought it was worth it.

_"Could you take that chance? Do you think it's worth the risk?"_

_"I think it is."_

So what changed?

"I hate you," I tell him. "I hate that not only do you have a great life and a kid and stuff, but you understand life. Unless it's yours, of course."

"What?"

"You understand _my_ life. You knew before I did that I didn't really want Tara in that way, you knew how I felt before I let myself know it, but you can't be honest with yourself. You really gotta give up the tortured crap, people'll start to get bored with it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he sets his face and frowns at his hands.

"Yes you do," I let my eyes flicker to the door to Wesley's office where Cordelia had taken Connor. "Her. You want her and I even know why you won't let yourself have her."

"Cordelia?" he splutters. "I do _not_ want Cordelia! She's a friend and I care about her, but I don't love her!"

"I never said you did, mate," I shrug. "The word 'love' didn't pass my lips, I said _'want.'_"

"I – I…" he gives up and sighs. "Enlighten me, why won't I let myself have her?"

"You probably think I'm gonna spout some crap 'bout not wanting to lose your soul and you're a vampire and immortal and she isn't. But it's got nothing to do with that. It's got to do with Buffy."

His head snaps up and he glares so darkly at me, I think he might slip into game face and pounce. Not that I'd mind, it could be fun.

"Buffy?" he growls. "You don't know anything about Buffy and I."

"Don't I? I know you were in love. I know that you'd feel guilty if you let yourself be with Cordelia, 'cause she's just like Buffy. You left Buffy so she could have someone better, normal and you made a big hoo ha about how she'd be the only one you'd ever love, if you allowed yourself to be with Cordelia, you'd feel you were cheapening that."

"I -" his mouth gapes for a little while. "We were talking about you."

"No need," I jump up and stretch a little. "I'm goin' back to Sunnyhell."

"Why?"

"Got somethin' there I miss. I'm not runnin' away, I'm gonna make it work. You should try it sometime."

"Maybe," he shrugs.

"Why did you help me?" I ask.

"Anya said she'd pay us."

"I don't think you'd do it just 'cause of that."

"You're family," he shrugs.

"Since when has that mattered to you?"

"Since I realised that sometimes that's all you have."

"Not always, sometimes family can abandon you and all you have're your friends."

"Quite the inspirational speaker," he smiles and gets up. "Want a shower before you go?"

"Be nice," he starts to lead me out of the foyer when Cordelia comes in and carefully hands his kid to him.

"He's sleeping," she whispers. "Isn't he gorgeous?"

"Yeah, gorgeous," but he isn't lookin' at the kid, he's lookin' at her.

She smiles and bounds away. He watches her with a little smile on his face, and then he sighs and kisses his son's forehead before lookin' up at me. I smirk and raise my eyebrow in a _yeah, right_, gesture.

"Shut up," he snaps quietly, aware of the kid's sleepin' state and probably thinkin' of Cordy's wrath if he wakes it up.

"Didn't say a word, mate," I shrug.

* * *

"It was very nice to meet you, Spike," Fred says. "It's a shame you can't stay longer. Will you visit?"

"I might," I shrug and smile at her. Nice girl, this. Whoever gets her is gonna be a lucky sod. I glance at Wes and extend my hand. After a brief hesitation, he shakes it stiffly.

"When I first met you, you didn't strike me as the type who'd be civil to a vamp," I tell him.

"As long as you aren't going to kill me or hurt the ones I care about," his eyes flicker to Fred. "And I can't throw stones, as I work with a vampire."

"I guess," I look at the two of 'em – Fred and Wesley – they're ok people, wouldn't invite 'em to a rave, but they'd make a good couple. "Take care of Fred for me, Wes," I tell him pointedly in a low voice.

I have no right to say that, only been here a week, but I like her and that was the only way I could think of to give him the message. He looks startled and he goes red.

"I – I..." he sighs with a smile. "I will. Drive safely and if you lose the chip, please don't come here to wreak havoc."

"I won't. See ya round, Cordy."

"'Bye," she hugs me a little awkwardly. "And thank you for not torturing Angel again."

I look at the man in question over her shoulder and give him an _I-told-you-so _look that makes him drop his eyes.

"'Bye, man," Gunn says and extends his hand. "You're all right. For a vampire."

"I'm touched, really," I press a hand to my chest and laugh. "Guess this is goodbye then, eh, Peaches?"

"I wish you wouldn't call me that, boy," he says.

"Gotta show the love somehow," I thrust my hands in my pockets. "Thanks."

"My job," he shrugs.

"Yeah. Don't go snackin' on the kid, don't think the world could take anymore of your angst."

"It's a good thing I'm holding him, otherwise I'd kick your butt for saying that," he says.

I take a step towards him and peer at the kid. Its face is screwed up and its fingers squirm.

"'Bye," I tell it. "Know you'll miss your uncle Spike."

And I swear it opened it's eyes and smiled at me.

"It smiled at me!"

"Wind," Cordy and Angel say in unison and I give Angel another look.

"Get gone, Spike," Angel says and Fred takes Connor as Angel and I walk to the door.

We stand outside the main door in the gathering dusk and I light a cigarette, cupping my hand around my lighter to protect the tiny flame from the faint breeze. I can hear them laughing inside and I look up at him.

"You've landed on your feet here," I tell him, putting my lighter away and reaching for my car keys.

"I know," he says.

"Just be sure to keep your balance," I start to climb in the car but he grabs me and pulls me back. He lands me one in the face and I punch him back, even as I grip my nose.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" I yell.

"For sleeping with her," he says sheepishly, rubbing his jaw where I thumped him. "Tell her I said… hi?"

"I'm sure I can come up with something better than that," I smirk and slide into the car. "You never were a man of many words," I tell him as I wind the window down, he peers through the half open window and I wind it down a little more.

"Drive safe," he says.

"I will," I answer, knowing full well that I won't and I never have, 'less I've got Bit with me of course.

"And, Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he looks embarrassed. "For once I've actually enjoyed seeing you."

"I'm ashamed to say it's mutual," I mutter. "But that don't mean I like you."

"I know," he straightens up and thumps the roof. "Go on then."

I roar off into the night, breaking every speed limit to get back to Sunnydale. 'Cause that's what you do, isn't it? When you want to get to someone who you've just realised means the world to you?


	16. No Place Like Home

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Sixteen: No Place Like Home  
**

I sit on the little landing between the two flights of stairs and stare down at the small hall that leads to the main door. I light a cigarette and take a long and much needed drag. Feel like I shouldn't be here, like this is their place now, not mine. I sigh, toss the fag down the stairs and watch as is slowly fizzles out in a puddle of orange soda that has pooled on the bottom step.

I get up slowly and, for some painfully obscure reason, I feel my age. I feel like one hundred and twenty eight years I really am. In other words, I feel soddin' awful. I climb the last five stairs to the floor our apartment is on and search my pockets for my keys. But maybe I shouldn't? I mean, I've been away for a week, staying in La-La Land with Angel and his little gang... Ok, enough with the trying to think about something else.

So, I'm not goin' to waltz in, I'll just knock. I pick up my bag, raise my fist, take a deep breath and knock before I can change my mind. I hear female voices and I feel nervous at the thought of seeing them again. Tara opens the door and stares blankly at me for a long moment, then a slow smile spreads over that pretty face and lights up all her features. Next thing I know, I'm knocked backwards into the wall behind me as she leaps at me and hugs me tight. God, I'm idiot, I was gonna walk away from this? I cradle her tightly and stroke her hair. When I open my eyes, Willow is smiling at me from the door of the apartment.

"Can't get rid of you, can we?" she says.

"Willow," Tara scolds, pulling away and reaching for my bag.

"No, pet, I'll get it," I tell her and she smiles as she lets me pick it up.

"I didn't mean that, Spike," Willow says.

"I know, Red, don't worry 'bout it."

"Angel called," Tara says once we're in the kitchen and Willow's in the living room. "He said you were staying there for a while. I was beginning to think you weren't coming back."

"What can I say, love," I shrug. "Couldn't deprive you of my presence and manly good looks for too long, now, could I?"

She laughs. "Oh, I did miss you. Dawn's been frantic."

"And, uh… Anya?" I ask, lowering my eyes and lacing my fingers together on the table, listening to her bustle merrily about the small kitchen.

"Have some blood," she says kindly and places the mug in front of me. "Everyone was worried when you just took off, Spike," she continues solemnly. "Even Buffy and Xander wondered a little."

"Did you tell them I was with Angel?" I ask.

"No," she admits. "Only Willow, Anya and I knew. I didn't think the others should know, in case they went to get you, and it would only upset Dawn."

"Yeah, right," I snort.

"They might have," she says gently.

I shrug and listen to the TV in the living sputter from music to conversation as Red flicks through the channels.

"You and Will live here now?" I ask.

"No, she's just visiting," she explains. "I said I'd stay with Anya until you got home, then I'm going back to Buffy's with Willow."

"That's nice for you," I say.

"Yes," she smiles dreamily and I feel really happy for her, if a little jealous that Will gets her 24/7 - lucky bint.

"Good for you," I say honestly.

"Spike, why did you go?" she asks suddenly.

"I thought it was over," I mutter, staring at the blood.

"Thought what was over?" she reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"You were gettin' back with Willow, so you'd be off, and Anya was gettin' back with Harris. I'd probably still see you, but I wouldn't see her anymore. And if you two weren't here, I could kiss goodbye to seeing Bit every day and havin' her stay over every Friday, Slayer'd see to that," I take a slow sip of blood. "Didn't want that, so I left, decided to finish it on my terms."

"I would have made sure Buffy still let you see Dawn, even if it meant staying here every Friday night. And Anya told Xander it was over for good."

"I know," I reply. "Uh, how is she?"

"Apart from sick with worry about you?" she smiles. "She's fine."

I don't answer. I look through the half open kitchen door and see that Willow has paused in her channel surfing to watch Pinocchio cavort with Jiminey Crickett. She sighs and turns the telly off, coming to the door and leaning against the frame.

"I've got a thing about _Pinocchio_," she tells us. "The whole acting like a real boy, but _not _a real boy, doesn't do it for me, not when you live on a Hellmouth."

"What if he was acting like a real girl, sweetie?" Tara asks with a dirty grin. Yes, I did say the words _"Tara"_ and _"dirty"_ in the same sentence –

"I could be persuaded," Willow answers.

"So, you two're back on track?" I ask.

"Yeah," Tara breathes and reaches for Willow's hand, she takes it with a sugary sweet grin.

"Anya's at the shop," Willow tells me. "The last few nights, she's been staying later and later."

"Go see her," Tara urges.

"If you wanted rid of me so you could have wild, marathon sex, you could've just _said_," I grumble and am rewarded with a blush from both girls.

"Go see her," Tara repeats, a little more sternly this time.

"I… I don't know what to say to her," I admit sheepishly.

"May I suggest that this time you _don't_ tie the girl up and demand her love or her life?" Willow offers brightly. I look at her in abject horror and she shrugs. "It's obvious, it's not like I needed a road map or anything."

"But what if I'm doin' the wrong thing?" I ask, figuring that if they both know, I might be able to get some halfway decent advice.

"_Always let your conscience be your guide!_" they sing song.

No way I'm gonna ask twice.

* * *

Had it all figured out, I did. Had a speech all prepared, my hair felt all right and I knew my rakish grin was on fine form. And all that planning has just taken a Concorde to hell. I scowl at the vampires who surround me. Great. Part of me thinks this is a great way to work off the nervous tension while the other part just wants to get the heart-to-heart _over_ with. Oh, and the third part is worrying about my hair. Damn, knew I spent too much time with the ponce.

"Thought you were gone for good," one hisses at me.

"And what made you think that?" I ask.

"Heard the Slayer kicked your ass so bad, you had to _crawl_ outta town," he smirks. "And now here you are, just _asking_ for a beating."

"For what?" I ask, my voice slightly raised.

"Killing your own kind," he informs me.

"Have to add to my growing list," I shrug and lunge at him, reaching for my stake at the same time.

Idiot didn't know what hit him. I give my boots a shake to rid them of the dust and grin at his cronies.

"Any more for anymore?" I ask pleasantly, hoping they'll run so I can get goin'.

They exchange a few hesitant glances, but then they seem to growl as one and step forward.

"Have it your own way," I shrug and slip into game face.

They attack sloppily and it's easy to find holes in their defence, which is why two more are dusted in seconds. There's only two left now and they seem to think that by attacking together, they'll have a better chance.

Needless to say, they were wrong.

As one attacks from the left, I lift my elbow and his own momentum sends him flying backward as he connects with it. I turn to meet his friend and duck as he reaches me, throwing him over my back. They get up and come at me again, one managing a hard fist into my face that causes my nose to stream with blood and a kick in my manhood.

"Bloody hell!" I shout, glancin' down at my crotch. "I was gonna use that later!"

For that, I knee him in the stomach and straighten him back up with an uppercut. I ram the stake into his chest and even before he's dust, I turn I slam my boot into his friend's face. The vamp tries some fancy leaping kick, but I grab his leg mid air and twist it, liking the sound it makes when it breaks. Gotta give the guy credit, he struggles to his one good leg once I've let him go and produces a knife that flashes out and slices my cheek. Shit. That hurt, but not as much as a stake would've.

He takes advantage of my brief lapse in concentration and aims a punch but I catch his fist and jam the stake into him. Did the guy a favour; he weren't gettin' laid with half his shin hangin' out. I tuck my stake into my pocket and saunter along to the shop.

My dick aches, there's blood running down my cheek from the knife cut and the blood hasn't stopped runnin' from my throbbin' nose. Great. I look like I've been in a bar brawl – which I sorta have. But if I go back to the apartment to shower and change, I'll probably walk in on some lurid sex act between Tara and Willow or Anya'll come in and it'll be awkward with everyone else there. So I push the door of the Magic Box open as slowly as possible, so that the bell is barely heard.

Obviously, Anya hasn't heard me come in; she's hunched at the table, over the accounts probably, and her head is propped in her hand. She looks tired and I somehow doubt she's actually workin'.

"'Ello, Sunshine," I say in a low voice.

She freezes – if that's possible when the person in question weren't movin' much to begin with. Then she lifts her head slowly and turns toward me. Her eyebrows knit together and her eyes widen. She has gorgeous eyes, not brown exactly, but a deep chestnut. And am I gawpin'? Oh, God, I'm gawpin'.

I give my head a small shake and resist the urge to shut my mouth with my hand.

"Spike?" she asks, and gets up slowly. "My God."

"Don't scream your joy at seein' me too loudly," I mutter, no this most definitely _not_ goin' to plan.

"You're hurt," she says, coming toward me and running her thumb along my cheekbone. I close my eyes a little against her touch and when I open them, she's frowning at me. "I'll get the First Aid kit."

I let her guide me to a chair and wait for her to come back. When she does, she pulls a chair close and sits down. Our knees are pressed together as she carefully cleans the wound gently and wipes the blood from my upper lip where the vampire smashed my nose. When she's done, she pulls her hands back sharply and busies herself with putting the things back into the kit. Then she clasps her hands in her lap and bows her head.

"You're back," she states after a moments silence.

"Seems that way," I answer. "Look at me, Anya."

She lifts her head and I'm shocked and amazed to see tears in her eyes.

"You left," there's anger in her voice and something blazes in her eyes.

"Yeah, I did," I say.

"Do you have _any_ idea how worried we were about you?" she cries, jumping up and pacing. "I mean, one minute you're there, talking to me, and the next you're gone. Like, _poof!_ No explanation, no dramatic gestures! What's that all about?"

"I left a note!" I protest.

"Oh, yeah," she says sarcastically. "Because 'bye' gives a reason why you left, tells us you care and that, hey, maybe you'll be back. Everything was all out of shape because of you, Spike! Tara was crying, Dawn was being a sulky, mood swingy teen, Willow even suggesting calling Angel. Even Buffy said she wanted you to come back to help her patrol and Xander said you'd better come back because everyone was all up in the air because you had gone! Don't you - "

"What about you, Anya?" I interrupt.

"What?" she asks.

"You've listed everyone who knows me and given me a brief summary of their reactions, but I don't know how _you_ reacted."

"Why do you want to know?" she asks, seemingly bewildered by the idea that I might care how she felt.

"Maybe because it matters to me."

"Matters to you?"

I stand up and approach her, slipping into my patented sexy, predator-like stalk. She stares up at me and backpedals 'til she hits the counter.

"What are you doing?" she whispers.

"What I came back for."

"Came back for?" she repeats. "What did you come back for?"

"You," I whisper huskily in her ear. "Came back for you, Sunshine. Missed you. _More _than missed you."

"You missed me?" there's wonder in her voice.

"Yeah," I admit.

She stares at me and I realise that I'm probably not the best thing to look at in a romantic situation; there's residual vamp dust on my clothes, I know my nose is bruised and the white patch she put over the cut on my cheek is hardly manly. Then she reaches up and cups my cheek. The look on her face I s'ppose _could _be likened to wonder, like she's seeing me for the first time and while she stares at me, I try to remember when things changed. When did I look at her and see _her?_ I've got a funny feeling it was the day I walked in on her in the shower, when she came out afterwards wearin' my red shirt and looked so broken. I think that was why I was so angry with him, 'cause she was never s'pposed to be like that. She was… Anya, my little ray of Sunshine.

"I missed you too," she whispers and I take that as my cue to act.

I grab her around the waist and pull her toward me. She gives a little gasp at the sudden movement. I run my hand over her hair and when my hand reaches the nape of her neck, I pull her face toward mine and do what I never realised I wanted to do for so long.

I kissed her.

And the best part?

She kissed me back.


	17. The Happy Endin'

_**And Then There Were Three**_  
**Chapter Seventeen: The Happy Endin'  
**

And then we danced. Not there in the shop, 'cause that'd be daft. We went to the Bronze and we just… danced. And it was nice. Then we went home and Tara and Will weren't there. Yeah, she kissed me back and plenty more, I can tell you.

'Course you can't see, but I've got a soppy grin on me face, had it since that night. Tara moved properly back in with Willow the very next day, so Anya and I've got the love nest thing goin' on. Didn't want to announce it straight away, but Sunshine was chompin' at the bit, so we told 'em. Couldn't help thinkin' it was nice, y'know, to have someone _wanting_ to scream it from the mountain tops that I'm her guy and she's my doll.

Tara and Willow already knew, obviously and the Niblet guessed the next night when she said we were "totally pashing on each other." So, on the Monday after the Friday when we kissed, I toddled into the shop and the Scoobs were crowded 'round the table and next thing I know, Anya jumped on me. Had those lovely little hands of hers all over me. When she finally pulled back, Buffy and Xander were shocked, to say the least, but they'll get over it.

Never thought I'd end up with someone like her. And the best thing? She told me she loved me before I said I loved her.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?" I asked, glancing at her before lookin' back at the telly.

"Can I tell you something?"

Something in her voice made me look at her and the look on her face made me think that this was it. It was goodbye Happydale and hello misery, have we met?

"You can tell me anything, Sunshine, y'know that."

"I love you," she said with this huge grin.

Yep, that's definitely filed under "moments to treasure." And filed under "who the hell are you and what the fuck is this?" is the memory of Buffy saying, "I'm happy for you, Spike."

But the scariest thing about bein' with Sunshine, is the whole happy thing. I haven't been happy in a relationship in a long while, but here I am, practically _singin'_ – well, humming – that the hills are alive with the sound of bloody music! It's scary, but I can't help liking it.

I want to be with her all the time, spend so much time at the shop; Anya's thinkin' of puttin' me on the pay roll. But she makes me feel wanted. We'll walk home from the shop and we'll watch some telly – _pretend_ to watch telly – then we'll go to bed. 'Course, we don't _sleep._ Lucky ol' Spike fell for the rampant sex bunny.

Knew I was head over heels in love with her when she saw a rabbit in an advert, screamed and jumped into my lap. Another time I would have told her to get the hell over it, but, dammit, I thought it was cute. I was in love with her, but that wasn't when it hit me with the force of an army of Wielder demons.

She's lookin' at me now, glancing shyly at me from the counter. Xander rolls his eyes, he's been doin' that a lot lately, but he hasn't said anything. 'Less you count that Saturday evening at the Bronze.

"You got her," he said sadly.

"I know," I answered, wary of where this was headed.

"I wanted her back," he sighed. "I asked her to come back. I thought she would, but she chose you."

I felt sorry for him. He glanced at the dance floor where Anya was dancing with Tara and Willow. She waved at me and blew a kiss. I smiled at 'er and caught Xander lookin' at me.

"Do you love her?" he asked.

I looked at her. The way she moved with the music, the smile on her face, that beautiful hair just begging to be touched. And that was the moment I realised. I knew when I kissed her in the shop I loved her, but lookin' at her then, considering his question, I realised I more than loved her. I was in love with her. The bunny moment when she jumped into my lap, I knew, but this was a moment of clarity, and I was positive this was the Real Thing, with capital letters, triple underlin' and three exclamation marks.

"No," I told him. "I don't love her, I'm in love with her. There's a difference, Harris, maybe that was your mistake."

"Maybe," he sighed and looked at her again. "It won't last, Spike. Nothing in this town ever does."

"I know, but I intend to make every moment the best. I know you still love her, but I got her, she loves me."

"I hate you," he muttered.

"Nothin' new, mate."

"But if you love her and you swear to protect her, I promise not to stake you."

I stare at him for a minute. Is this an olive branch I see before me? But it wasn't, it was just his hand. I took it and shook it firmly.

"If I hurt her," I told him seriously. "I'll give you the stake myself."

That was the night I told her I loved her. And I thought she was a ray of Sunshine before? Her face was like a 60 watt bulb and I'd never seen her so beautiful. And I was the cause of it. Me and three little words.

Sometimes I wonder why I didn't love her before, don't know why, just happy I've got her now.

Anya and I have got a theory: Buffy and Xander. C'mon, just friends? I don't think so. So, maybe things might turn out ok. Tara and Will are sickeningly happy, Dawn and Buffy are the sisters merry instead of the sisters grim. And the Slayer's a lot more fun now. Makes me wonder if it were me that was wearin' her down. Asked her, she said no.

"You look chipper," I observed as the Slayer and I wandered toward the cemetery.

"I feel chipper," she answered brightly.

"Was it 'cause of me?" I asked. "Did I make you unhappy?"

She stopped and looked at me, thinking.

"No," she said. "I was making me unhappy. I needed you to be there, you were the only one that understood. But it wasn't because of you that I was miserable. I just had so much, Slayage, Dawn, the bills, the job, it just got too much."

"So, it wasn't me?"

"No, Spike."

"Good. Can I go home now? I want to see Anya."

"Go," she pushed me in the right direction. "Have fun, I'll see if Xander will come patrol with me."

Can't help thinkin' things are too good, somethin's got to go wrong sometime. But I doubt I'll care, long as I got Anya, Hell itself can wreak bloody vengeance on earth and I'd only worry if she were all right. Her, the L'il Bit, Tara, Willow - 'cause it'd upset Tara if anythin' happened to her. The Slayer too - 'cause despite everythin', still care 'bout her. And, I s'ppose Xander, not really feelin' like bein' brought down by a funeral. Not that I'd care or anything.

"Spike?"

I'm brought back to now and look up immediately. The others look at each other in that _"aww" _way they have. All except Xander who just mutters something about a "lovesick puppy" as he stares at his lap. Poor kid. Ah, well.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" I ask and she grins.

"I want to go home," she grabs her bag. "The others can watch the shop, it's only open another hour. I need a couple of dozen orgasms."

"What can I say, pet?" I ask and walk over to her, placin' my hands on those gorgeous hips of hers. "Can't say no, now, can I?"

"No, you can't," she breathes and kisses me.

Kisses me so hard that the groans from the others sound like they are comin' from far away.

"Could you _not _scar my little sister?" Buffy asks.

"I think it's sweet," Dawn answers.

"Sweet?" I ask. "I'll have you know that our relationship is anythin' but sweet. Ain't that right, Sunshine?"

"Mmm hmm," she murmurs and kisses me again, while pushin' me round the counter and in the general direction of the door.

"So, you guys _aren't_ gonna help out with the research?" Tara calls.

"What do you think?" I yell back, as m'lady pulls me outta the door into the night. "See ya later, Glinda. Still need a walk to work?"

"If you can tear yourself away," she answers with a wry smile.

"I can but try," I tell her and turn to capture Anya's lips again as we stumble down the street to our apartment block.

Can't get enough of her. Every second seems like too little time to be with her. I still walk Tara to work as you've probably guessed, gives us a chance to talk. And Dawn still visits after school and I help her with her homework, but she's stopped stayin' every Friday night. Can't think why. Anya reckons it's the noise.

"How can she sleep through all that noise?" she asked me. "It was quite sensible of her."

"Honey?" she asks as I fumble with the keys.

I love it when she calls me that, not the word, just the way she says it. I look at her, find it hard not to. And to think I thought I wanted Tara. Thank Satan I realised – ok, thanks to Angel – that I wanted her. This shinin' goddess who, in the space of a coupla weeks, has become everything to me. Centre of me soddin' universe. They do say it revolves around the sun.

"Yes, pet?" I ask.

"I love you," she says and takes my hand to guide the key into the lock.

I grab her to me and kiss her. She pulls back gaspin' and flushed pink.

"Do I need to tell you?" I ask.

She shakes her head and pulls me in for another kiss, even as the door opens and we fall into the apartment.

So maybe I didn't have to say it, didn't mean I didn't think it and tried to show it in every kiss, touch, stroke and groan.

"I love you."

And I know I felt her return it, even if I didn't hear it.

I know she feels it, I know she loves me, wants me, needs me.

And that's like… Sunshine.

* * *

_**The End.**_


End file.
